F 868 D3H8 1902 A A ; i 1 i 3 I 3i 5 i 6 I 1 i 31 Hufford Death Valley THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES A typical desert is an area of waste land whose use mankind has not yet discovered. ^'oLlrs lrul\', D. A. HUFFORD. (One of the party ) Death Valley; Swamper Ike's Traditional Lore: Why, When, How? -^♦• BY D. A. HUFFORD. D. A. liuSSord & Co., Publishers, Los Angeles, Cal. 1902 Copyrighted, 1902, by D. A. Hufford 7)3 H8 S THOUGH urged to journey unarmed and alone through the inte- rior of Tiburon Island, on the ^Mexican coast, and meet the savage Seris, did the old Her- mit of [Mussel Rock start when Swamper Ike suggested the pil- grimage through Death Valley. The name re- echoed more horri- bly than the dangers to be met in the bar- ren valley w^hich had gained the reputation of being the playa of Father Time. Swamper Ike laughed, but there seemed to be a hollow mockery in the hilarity that sent a chill through me and for a moment curbed even my youthful craving for adventure. Ike was a peculiar character — one such as it would be expected would revel in regions the thought of which would repulse most men. Tall, with stooped shoulders, a piercing eye, 5 262721 determined cast of countenance, a sun-cracked face, resembling a piece of leather left in the sun for years, his wiry body encased in shab- by clothing, the old desert guide was happy when his recitation of adventure thrilled his listeners. That hollow laugh that day seemed to allay all the fears of the old hermit and spur him on to travel to the end of the earth rather than concede to the credit of rough though honest Ike, the victory of having frightened him. It was on the morning of December nth, 1901, that our caravan passed through the streets of Los Angeles, and a number of street urchins, attracted by a placard rudely painted on the side of our canvas-canopied wagon, "Death Valley or Bust," followed us. Our party consisted of George Spooner, Swamper Ike (the desert sailor), the hermit, whom we had sobriqueted "Ennui," and my- self. The wagon was of stout construction, somewhat worn, as it had seen previous duty, but still serviceable, and the horses were of the Norman breed, especially selected for their stoutness and endurance. It was dark when we arrived at the mouth of the San Fernando tunnel, having traveled 6 Ike Salsuepedes. (" Swamper Ike.") twenty-five miles since morning. For years the hollow where we pitched our tent had been known as "Hobos' Retreat,'' which name it gained from the towering live oaks and the crystal brook which furnished a temporary haven for the knights of the road who travel toward the sunny southland. At sunrise we entered the narrow and sand- stone-walled pass into Newhall, and from thence to Saugus. At nightfall, under spread- ing live oak trees near v.diere a stream in the San Franciscito canon flowed, we pitched our tent, and lounged in the rays of the silver moonlight and listened in the silence of nature to the reminiscences of Swamper Ike. The trip through the caiion was especially interesting, inasmuch as the country traveled was rough and in the garb of nature. The narrow road a hundred times crossed the stream, and on the low banks at the fords were still to be seen the hoof-marks of horses driven by other argonauts. After a twenty mile drive through the canon, we arrived at the summit at night. Be- fore us lay the fertile Antelope Valley, and the view was telescopic in its range. The road to the valley was mountainous and extremely 7 serpentine, having been cut out of the mam- moth rocks of the mountains. From the crest of the highlands Antelope Valley seemed so tranquil and peaceful that the title, "home of the unchained wind," by which all travelers know the country, seemed a mockery. Too true did Shakespeare say, "All is not gold that glitters ;" but it was until we en- tered the valley and experienced the fury of the gale that we realized that the peaceful appearing ranches were not located in Para- dise. In the distance a train wound its way toward Lancaster, and the lowing herds of cat- tle seemed to be in harmony with the de- structive winds. A hundred miles away, in majestic splendor, rose the stately peak known as Pilot's Nob. How valuable this lofty mountain had been to travelers through the Death Valley on the way to the Golden State, history tells. It can be seen from Death Valley, and to the prairie schooner's crew it is what the lighthouse is to the storm-tossed mariner who has lost his bearings. Miles of yucca fringe the Antelope Valley, and as the traveler nears Willows Springs, on the northern extremity, the ruins of adobe buildings give silent evidence of the Mexican hacienda estabhshed years before, when the Ht- tle railroad depot erected by one of the great transcontinental companies gave promise of making the settlement. .IV Like the Indians, Mexicans are nomadic, and all that now remains to bespeak the pres- ence of a village are the delapidated buildings and the creek which wends its way from the mountains and channels into the valley. Cattle come from miles around to drink of its crystal waters, and here too the desert traveler re- plenishes his supply of aqua — for water is life, in the heated sands. A little further on clumps of greasewood and sagebrush mark the character of the land, and an occasional coyote crosses the road, looks about shyly and then hurries off to the thick underbrush. On December 14th the water at Willows Springs was 'very shallow, and, as Swamper Ike put it. "was wet only on one side." On through the Mojave desert, the blazing heat pouring down upon us, we wendea our 9 way to Mojave, where we arrived in the even- ing. Lunch that day consisted of desert ter- rapin, Swamper Ike having prepared one of the large turtles which he captured that day. Sixteen miles out from ^^lojave are a row of low wooden buildings, and it was evident that they had only recently been deserted. On the roughly hewn door was a placard upon which w'as writ- ten, in a bold but unsteady hand, the infor- mation that travelers could use all the w^ater they needed and the house and cooking uten- sils, but requesting them not to use the lum- ber. Lumber in that country is worth more than wheat, owing to the expense of trans- portation from the railroad. Teamsters are paid well because the hauls are long, the roads rough and the feed expensive. Into Randsburg we drove about noon on the following day, and the mining town was as active as usual, but the heat was almost in- tolerable. Plenty of saloons and more gam- bling houses and a number of rough looking men on the sidewalks compose the town, but it is lively despite its small population. Beyond the narrow gulch lay Johannesburg, another mining town, where most of the Death Among the Giant Suaharas. Valley caravans provision, and at this place we arrived in the evening. Water for the horses cost ten cents a bucket, and water for men — well, men don't drink v. ater in that town. "Wal, thar, she's desert-trim, and you fel- lers just pile in and we'll be vamoosing," shouted Swamper Ike. as he concluded his in- spection of the wagon. The amount of food and water — for man and beast — to be carried on a trip of this kind is almost inconceivable to persons unacquainted with desert travel. Our first stop after leaving "Joburg" was at Blackwater Wells, dug nearly half a cen- tury ago by Gen. Wingate on his trip through that region. The water here is jet black, and is used only for horses or cooking. The coun- try around is more or less mountainous, and covered with mesquite. greasewood, or "creo- sote" bush, as it is commonly called, sage- brush, chaparrel, twenty-six varieties of cacti, and yucca, etc. Ike said wherever you find mesquite grove or thicket on the desert you will find water by digging. The grease-bush is found in greater abun- dance than any other, and is a bush with many slender branches shooting out in all directions. T saw one load of it on a wagon further on, and it is known as a "desert load of hay." When l)urned. it sputters like grease, and thus it gets its name. If a "Back East" man were told that fuel is gathered with a shovel in Death Valley he would surely think you were deceiv- ing him. The reason for that is that a sand storm will cover up a whole forest in a single week. A day further on is a pass in these hills, called Windy Gap. Its name does not belie it- self. It was first called Wingate, then "Wind Gate," and finally it was evolutionized into its common name, "Windy Gap." There are other wells in this sec*^ion com- memorating this passage of the argonaut. This old warrior's name will always refresh the thirsty travelers on the desert, for such men as he helped to make it possible to cross this stretch of sand in comparative safety. A few miles further back begins the "tin lining" of the desert travel, for from there on you will see innumerable empty tin cans (baked beans, tomatoes, condensed milk and the like) at the wet and dry camps, left by pre- vious campers. The topographical features of the desert are interesting to the tourist, as well as to one not versed in geological lore. There is no dan- ger in traveling through the desert ten months in the year, when you are properly guided, but you should never attempt to cross it in July and August. Swamper Ike suggested that we make camp here and get an early start in the morning. Nothing of importance occurred the first day cut, and the afternoon was spent in telling yarns and listening to some legends about the Lost Lake. The next night was spent at Granite Wells, tne second watering place, about thirty miles from Joburg, and immediately at the base of Pilot Nob. a mountain several hundred feet high, composed largely of gold-bearing quartz, intermixed with copper, but the ore is of so low a grade as to be practically valueless un- der present conditions of transportation. The future of all the mining ventures of the des- ert hangs upon the building of railroads through the different sections. Ike showed us several mining claims on th!s peak, some of which had shafts of some depth. 13 while others had tunnels extending some hun- dred or more feet into the mountain. On ac- count of the low grade of ore, only assessment work had been done. With cheaper transpor- tation, they no doubt could be made to pay handsomely — both in gold and copper. Here were some outcroppings of sand stone, marking the underlying oil beds. This was on the main road, about two miles from Black- water Wells. I found that the whole south slope of a small mountain was composed of this sand, but with a very little shale. The dip seems generally to the north, with a very much broken formation and by no means well defined. There is no doubt, with proper fa- cilities, energy and money, that here, as well as elsewhere on the desert, can be found vast store-houses of precious gems. This sandy stretch of waste land is im- mensely rich. Besides the precious gems and Cjuartz, there is soda, iron, potash, nitrate ma- terials and many articles of value in the rocks and hills for manufacturers and chemists. One fact emphasizes itself — this vast area we call desert, from the very fact that it is hot and dry, has preserved there for this coun- 14 '?^*lfftH .^Kiif ,1 try the very thing it needs most. It is the store-house of riches, of which mankind has only to ttir)i the key. In the immediate neighborhood of Granite Wells are a number of turquoise mines, which yield about lo per cent of good gems, the re- mainder being worthless. Only assessment work has been done on these. This is the most common precious stone of this valley, though a few aeates and other minor stones are found. The next night found us at Leach's Springs, after having made two dry camps on the way. From a guide-board at this place we learned that we had attained an elevation of 3084 feet, and had traveled forty miles from our last camp, making a total of sixty-seven miles from joburg. Leach's Springs, so Swamper Ike said, had been famous as a stronghold for horse-thieves and criminals when the first wagon trains came through from Salt Lake and other Eastern points in the early days. In the eighties he drove one of the big borax w^agons running out of Death A'alley. and it was no uncommon thing in those days to kill a teamster after pay-day, while the looting of the pay-wagon 15 was accomplished, despite its guards. On his neck was a prominent scar caused by a rob- ber's bullet. A saloon located there years ag-o did a thriving business, but now all that re- mains of it is a rectangular row of huge stones marking its walls. An old Indian camping ground is to be found on a sloping bit ot mesa near the spring, while thousands of agate, jasper and obsidian chip- pings mark the spot and tell of its long occu- pation. Here we engaged in a hunt for cu- rios, but only one or two good arrow heads rewarded our search. Just back of the spring can be seen a per- fect elephant's head frowning down upon the canon below, carved by nature from the rock. I found four varieties of cacti growing within a circle sixty feet in diameter, just below this niammoth head, while regular swamp weed grew in profusion close to the spring. Here we made the acquaintance of three pair of ravens, which followed us all the way, a distance of nearly seventy miles, and show- ing no signs of abandoning their mission for food. The ravens here are particularly fear- less, coming about camp as familiar as jays in the lower hills. i6 We noted up to this point about thirty birds, two rattlers, four coyotes, a lone red fox, a chahualla (about the size of a Gila monster and good to eat), four jackrabbits (Ike got one), and some cottontails, horned toads and lizards of different colors. There are very few points of interest outside the caiion in which these springs are situated. Stopping over night and in the morning, see- ing that our water barrels were well filled, we pulled over twenty miles of typical desert road to Owl Holes, or Owl Springs. Here are deposits of borax, sodium carbon- ate ("baking powder," as Swamper Ike called it) and nitrate. One or two small pieces of asbestos were also found, indicating larger de- posits larther up. Remaining at Owl Holes over one day, we descended through a rocky water-course more than three thousand feet into Death Valley proper, making camp at Saratoga Springs, at the end of the valley. Here the bed of the Amargosa river is literally covered with a heavy deposit of borax. Salt hills are abun- dant just across this dry river bed. \\'e made these springs our headquarters. 17 A good map of California will show that Death Valey lies in the southeast corner of Inyo county. The distance to the following points from these springs are: io6 miles to Randsburg, 80 miles to Daggett. 22 miles to Evans's ranch, 32 miles to Resting Springs, 10 miles to Owl Springs, 12 miles to Salt Springs, 30 miles to Coyote Springs. .'vt Saratoga Springs are the remains of two old store houses, recalling a decade ago, when the heavy borax wagons, each drawn by twenty mules or more, pulled by on their weary trips to the railroad station. These houses were then occupied as a saloon and store, re- spectively. The old miners, "desert Arabs of many years, sigh for those good old days, when the roads were spotted with teams and the bas- tioned hills gave back the songs of the team- sters, allaying that "oppressive silence" that is everywhere experienced on the desert. Several graves are found at these wells, one •of which is a teamster killed by his swamper (helper) on the borax wagon in a moment of anger. The monotony of desert travel tries one's nerves, and is no place for heated argu- ments ; that "dead silence" preying on the mind is why the human being cannot tolerate censur- 18 Rattlesnake. Native of the Desert. ing-. The others are desert prospectors, who succumbed to the intense heat of the desert, the extreme heat of July having laid open the head of one of them. Swamper Ike was once a swamper, and af- terwards a teamster. The wages paid to the former were $75.00, and the latter $120.00 per month, and they boarded themselves. Each teamster drove twenty mules with a "jerk line," being assisted at the brake and in other ways by a swamper. We are now at a point where that "oppres- sive silence" — the quietness of death — the passing of the death angel — seizes your nerves. The feeling is indescribable. For where there are no chirping, no fluttering of wings, no wind playing on the leaves of the trees, noth- ing but that eternal silence. I can hardly realize that a few miles from Saratoga Spring's (250 feet above sea level, in the Armagosa valley (an extension of Death A'alley proper, and as the altitude is much higher here than the sink or fathomless bowl, is why Armagosa river, when it had any water, ran north and emptied into the sink), we were 200 feet below the breakers at Santa Monica and 400 below the city hall in Los Angeles. 19 Everything seemed the same as it has been throughout the trip, save that the atmosphere was not so pure as it was a few miles back on the border of Death Valley. Distances are just as deceiving, and a morning walk to yonder knoll in search of Indian relics lengthens out to a half-day tramp. Throughout the day the sunbeams reflect a vast variety of rainbow col- ors along the sand, and on each side of the caiions. The sands in the distance form vast fields of the same color, and sometimes when there is a strong wind the brighter the color appears. There is no twilight in Death Val- ley ; a brief afterglow, then darkness and si- lence. The clouds of the desert have no great change during the day, but at early dawn they are pink, gold, saffron and all the grays ; then again they are yellow, green, red and rich gol- den in color. The dawns of the desert have no equal. The clear air on the desert is very deceiving as to distance, and especially is that true of the "mirage lakes." You see them in the distance, and you could imagine that they were real lakes, villages, steamboats plying to and fro. The water-mirage does not show well over brushy ground, but on the flat lake beds of the desert they appear distinctly. The disappearances and appearances of the objects and colors in the mirage lakes are often quite wonderful. The most common illusion of the desert is the water mirage, which is picturesque in the extreme, and as a rule you will see no horizon line. One day a man belonging to another party came over to our camp perfectly nude, holding his cloths high over his head, thinking he was in water. The real beauty of the mirage illusion lies in the formless masses of color and light. Beautiful dreams are always wel- come, and the mirage is only a dream. The desert sand is finer than snow, and rythmically blends the sand dunes into the most grotesque shape and forms. The sand hills are very unreliable, today they are at one place, and if the wind blows on the morrow they will be 20 to 50 feet away. Neither the sand dunes nor flats nourish veg- etation, and down into the sink for miles not a weed or blade of grass is seen. t.ven vege- tation cannot live by sunlight alone. The thermometer registers 132° in the shade in July and August, and on those days of high registration it is not in the power of a hu- man being to drink water fast enough to sat- isfy his thirst, even if he had plenty of it. In 1 89 1 the weather bureau sent an observer to remain there and take observations during the summer months. When he returned be- fore the expiration of his time, he said he would take "hell straight'' next time. He re- mained there 153 days. His report was that the valley was 75 miles long by six to ten miles wide, and that some streams flow into the sink, but the burning sand and alkali lick them up ; several days the thermometer was 122°, the minimum being 90^, making an average for the day about 109°. His version was that Death Valley was once a great salt lake. In those hot days a person cannot hold anything, just like an extreme cold country you cannot hold iron. Eggs can be fried on rocks, and fresh meat the night before would be spoiled in the morning. The wind from the south through Furnace Creek, in those months, is simply a fier\- furnace. It shrivels everything it touches. An iron founder's sand blast about equals it. The "dead silence'^ and the fiery heat fre- quently drive men mad. There is no danger when a party is properly conducted, and the trip is taken under the right condition. tteaaamk''. .-»T;.-^v>ir-| "*^^Pi^ -■■/■■':■ Wk Death Valley proper is remarkably free from tarantulas, snakes, spiders, scorpions and in- sects, notwithstanding the exaggerated stories to the contrary. We did not see or find any in the sink of the valley. Any place away from the main road is dan- gerous, especially after a rainstorm — for it does rain on the desert, but the rain is uncer- tain. Sometimes it does not rain for six or seven years, but when it does, there is a cloud- burst, and then there is danger. Swamper Ike said that at one time near Salt Springs he drove his wagon a little off the road, the horses sank nearly out of sight, and he went in to his waist. There were two In- dians with him, and only with the timely use of ropes saved himself and the animals. Many wild and weird tales are told about this valley, but it must be admitted that the traveler comes across some gruesome finds in the way of skeletons. We came across the bones of some unfortunate who perished on the des- ert, and as there were no clothes or anyt.img to identify him by, we just gave them a decent burial near the spring. One peculiarity of this region is the fact that the drifting sand will 23 uncover what was turned tlie day before. The fiiidijig of these bones suggested the corner pieces for tJiis rolnnie. In this valley there is a circular hole, be- tween the sink and the Funeral mountains, some four feet in depth and thirty feet across, which is filled with tepid sulphur water by a number of springs, which bubble through the white sand of the bottom. This overflows its basin on the north side, spreading out over a natural depression formed between the sand hills of an ancient sea and the mountain, near Furnace Creek, forming a lake of several hun- dred acres in extent, where coots, ducks and geese gather a few weeks at a time in their migratory flight. At these moimtains, at whose southern end the springs are situated, present one of those strange anomalies for which this valley is fa- mous, and called by a most solemn name — Death Valley. As we neared Telescope Peak, Swamper Ike suddenly halted and tears shone upon his bleached and weather-caloused cheeks. Here was a man of stone, whose heart was bleeding as though a thousand blades of steel had en- 24 tered it simultaneously. I stepped quickly to his side, and my arm found its way over his shoulder. We were both kneeling, and when the "desert sailor" recovered from his emo- tion, he related with the sincereness of a child a story remarkable and sympathetic- It was at the base of this peak in the fifties that the prairie schooner in which his mother and father were taking him westward to the cherished land, ended its journey. Ike was a child in arms, and was fretful on account of the almost intolerable heat. The water supply was nearly exhausted, and the schooner had left the caravan in search of a spring or stream. In the barrel which was swung from the rear of the heavy wagon was about a pint of water. Swamper Ike's father kissed his wife and baby affectionately before he started on his foraging tour. In that country death comes suddenly, and the mirages often lead a trav- eler far from his course and along the path to the goal of death. Under the wagon sat the mother with her baby in her arms, when the husband and fa- 25 ther disappeared over the mountain. She hug-- ged the baby more closely and covered its little face with kisses. Two hours had elapsed, and the father and husband did not return. Anxiety prompted the good woman to search for him. Pouring the water from the barrel into the infant's milk bottle and placing the nipple in the little one's mouth, she kissed baby frantically, then laid it on a blanket under the wagon and started on the search. Her own lips were parched and blistered, and her tongue swollen from thirst, but the mother's love for her child was greater than her own sufifering. She never came back. She had found her husband in the Valley of Death, but not in Death Valley. Under the wagon Cocopah Indians found the innocent babe that afternoon. It had thrown its bottle, still half full of water, aside, un- conscious that the draught in that glass recep- tacle had been purchased at the cost of two lives. The little pale face took kindly to its new friends, for they were decked with all the col- 26 ■ X ors of the rainbow, and this conspicuous finery won the baby's heart. On to the great Colorado river the squaws carried the child, taught him their language and that of the Mexicans, and in that envi- ronment of Indian life Swamper Ike grew to manhood to learn of the cruel deeds of Fate and the sacrifice of his parents. Ofttimes had he visited this spot and ap- pealed to the Great Jehovah in prayer, for it was here that his mother pressed her tear- stained face against that of her baby for the last time and resigned herself to God and Death \'alley. Many times had Ike crossed that valley with the Indians, who had named him Ike Salsue- puedes, the Indian for "get out if you can." Years afterward the borax gang named him Swamper Ike. because they could not master the pronunciation of the Indian name. Often had the redskins in those days, with their white charge, crossed Death Valley without provis- ions, gathering nature's products to supply the demands of the human system. If Death \^alley could only speak, wliat aw- ful tales it could unfold ! Iron and parts of wagons are occasionally found on the old Santa Fe trail. In the fifties, at the base of Telescope Peak, the highest mountain in the valley, lying sixty odd miles northeast from Saratoga Springs, on the opposite side of the valley, that the name to this valley was made known to the world, through an vmfortunate ending of an emigrant party traveling from St. Louis to Santa i:'e, and bound for Southern California. This valley would have been for- gotten but for their pitiful fate. Gen. Fre- mont took that trail. The hardy argonauts were willing to undergo the hardships to reach the land of gold. The moon, when it is full, at this point crowns a picture. The sand dunes lying adja- cent to the mountains are magnified like snow- hills in the East. For extreme desolation and wxirdness of the phantom phosphorescent light, a night on the desert surely tries one's nerves, for a superstitious person can see all varieties of figures in the distance. Blue is the pre- vailing color of the sky, and sometimes the deepest kind of blue. The desolation and si- lence of the desert will never be forgotten by men who have crossed it. Its grim mountains of rainbow hues, the sublimity of its myste- 28 rious immensity and sandy plains, its expand- ing and contraction of the horizon, its caiions and arroyO'S, with their rainbow hues, its drift- ing- sand dunes and mirage lakes, will forever remain a mystery to mankind. All of the scholared scientific men may say this and that and not agree, while the opinion of an illiter- ate man, but a child of Nature, may differ from their views, he is just as correct a great many times as they are in the mystery of Death \'alley. The mountains surrounding this, valley are clothed in all the colors of the rainbow. Ar- senic Springs are found in this arid valley, as well as poisonous gases at Furnace Creek. The abutting foothills of the sink are rich in minerals, the blues and the greens of the cop- per ore, the darker iron, the multi-colored gold- bearing quartz, and the sodas, nitrate and pot- ash materials, gypsum and asbestos, all of them giving it a kaleidoscopic appearance to a range of mountains in which more men nave lost their lives from hunger and thirst than any other place on the continent. The writer spent one year on the "bad lands" in Dakota and INIontana, which are a Paradise compared to Death Valley. 29 The underflow of the desert rivers have re- cently been investigated by government en- gineers. It is claimed that the subterranean velocity of the Mojave river is the greatest of them all, but is neutralized to a great extent by the cross-sections of the underflow at the nar- rows. There is no doubt that some of the des- ert rivers are fed in their subterranean beds from springs arising from a deeper flow from the Rocky Mountains. All the streams, after leaving the canons, sink into the sand and wind their way to the ocean in their subterranean channels. Death Valley proper is about eighty miles long, running from south to north, and from five to twenty miles wide. At its lowest point, according to scientific men, it is 417 feet be- low sea level, where its "climate" is oppres- sive and intolerably hot, where all poisonous reptiles shun it as they would a sand-blast, where the coyotes, wild-cats, skunks and other quadrupeds do not relish this fathomless quag- mire, with its thin crust, composed largely of slimy mud, heavily charged with borax, ni- trates, copperas, alkalis, potash and other crys- tallized materials, is about ten miles from foot- hills to foothills. About 200 miles of lofty 30 ii mountains, running north and south, separate this valley from the sea. The glare of this immobile sea is like the sheen of an Eastern snow-field. It is not safe to drive across it, for the horses sink into the mud, and there is no telling how soon the whole party, horses and all, would disappear. We lowered a wire with a lead weight eighty feet, and while tieing on some rope on the end of the wire, it slipped out of my hand and dis- appeared. Two rivers flow in the sink — Furnace Creek from the northeast, and the Armagosa from the east. The sink-hole is walled in on all sides, by the Panamints on the w^est, the Fu- neral range on the east, and a mountain range on the south, so that properly speaking Death Valley is walled m on all sides except the north. Telescope Peak, the highest point, is about 9000 feet, and Funeral Peak 7000 feet, above sea level. Just note the altitude of these mountains and the depression in the sink ! Where will you find a rent or crevasse in the earth with two such mountain peaks on either side. INIt. Whitney is something like 70 miles east and a little routh, and towering 14,000 feet above sea level. 31 The eye cannot grasp the magnitude of the depth and height of these surroundings. The several thousand feet of bench-hne on either side above the sink can be seen crop- pings of red, blue, green, yellow — in fact all the rainbow colors — and as time goes on the cloud-bursts and wind erosions wash these min- erals in the sink. Along this bench-line can be found sea shells, like one could pick up on any ocean beach. Now, where did these come from ? In general appearance the valley is gray, sombre, desolate and uninviting. The natural- ist must indeed be in his sternest mood to ad- mire it, for there is not a green thing that grows there naturally. Southern exposures are found most prominent. Travelers on the desert running short of water will sometimes find it on the southeast sides of the mountains, but as a rule it is deep- seated. "Wild-catting" for water does not pay, as many bleaching bones could testify, were they able to speak. The presence of grease-wood always gives hope to the thirsty. The different reptiles found are a variety of. lizards, and their colors include the grays, yel- lows, reds and blues; the Gila monster (pro- 32 nounced Hila) belongs to the lizard family, though he is much larger, and whose bite is fa- tal. He is found mostly in the cafions of Ari- zona. His looks are very forbidding, and he has a repulsive way of hissing. There is no antidote for his poison. The little skunk found on the desert has poisoned teeth, whose bite brings on hydrophobia. The horned toads, harmless, come in variegated colors ; in what- ever sand they are found, such will be their color. Of the most dreaded snakes are the spotted, brown, and yellow "sidewinders" and "rattlers," which travelers should shun on ac- count of their deadly poison. The bite of the rattler is not necessarily fatal. A person will know a rattler the hrst time he hears its peculiar buzz and whirr. It is very slow to strike, slug- gish, but once the head shoots out of the coil it does so with the swiftness of an arrow re- leased from a bov.\ Only a road runner can dodge it. The bite is fatal if it has entered the rteshy part of the body, where the flow of blood to the heart is free, but if struck on the hand or foot, when the circulation is slow, a person may check the poison. Even the sneaking coyotes is entitled to some admiration as he slips so gracefully through 33 the patches of cacti. Then there is the scorpion and the many-legged centipede, whose stings are deadly, but not always fatal. All of the spiders are poisonous. The most sharp-witted is the trap-door spider — the name coming from the fact that the door over the hole having a hinge. The tarantula belongs to this family ; and is a fierce-looking wretch, and has a fero- sious bite. Insects, especially gnats, annoy the desert argonaut. The mesquite found on the desert is of a green-yellowish tinge, while the grease-wood and sage brush are gray, yellow and ash color, and grow in canons and on foothills. The cacti that usually grows abundantly on the de- sert is not found in Death Valley. Vegetation in general is very poorly represented on the desert. In the mountains among the manzanita and chaparrel is still the hiding places of bear and deer, and other game. Prospective Dear Valley travelers must re- member that two things must be loyally faced : oppressive silence and desolate aridness. It is difficult to bring the mind to the belief in the existence of such a sea of waste and desert, when every other division of the earth presents some prominent feature of nature. 34 ■ There has been a great deal of talk the last few years about turning water upon the desert and cutthig it up in 40-acre ranches. It should hot be done ! There is no doubt but that the pre- ternatural productiveness of California is due to the warm air of its surrounding desert. They furnish health to the human being and strength to the plant. Tiif. desert never should be RE-ci.AiMED. The sink or depression in Death Valley is probably the greatest dry heat genera- tor in the world. It has a great influence in producing dry air. To turn this desert into an agricultural district would increase humidity that would practically nullify the finest air on the continent. Good air and climate are as es- sential to the human body as proper nutriment. The laws of nature all have a purpose. There is no doubt but that the heat that whirls up out of the sink. Furnace Creek and along the Ar- magosa river over the Coast Range in South- ern California have a great influence in giving Los Angeles her much sought for climate. The Armagosa river rises some 200 miles north, above Ash Meadows, flowing down through a rocky canon, until entering Death \'alley at its southern end, it dies away in the sands of this arid basin. Several springs are 35 found here maintaining a heat over loo degrees at all times. In short, Death Valley is the sink of the Armagosa river. The bed of this stream (were it a "live" river) is charged heavily with borax, and covered with a thin crust of the same material crystallized. "Armagosa" in Spanish means "bitter ;" in Indian which is sim- ilar, "Amargosa" means "grape vine." The water of this river is bitter and its route is sinuous as the stem of a grape vine. To the west and extending north and south as far as the eye can reach from Saratoga Springs, lie the nitre hills. Light yellow in color, resembling overgrown sand hills, but heavily charged with nitre down to bed rock. Beyond these nitre hills are to be found other hills of a lighter color, composed almost entirely of rock salt in a remarkable condition of purity. Here on January ist, 1901, the thermometer was 95 degrees above ; on the 4th 4 degrees be- low zero ; which shows the changes are very great and rapid. For years scientific parties have explored the great valley, and each scientist has an inde- pendent view and explanation for its topog- raphy. A study of the land demonstrates that 36 in the valley there were centuries ago volca- noes. It is conceded that in California there have always been volcanic eruptions, and at this time there are several extinct volcanoes which are among the points of interest. Earthquake disturbances in the early days were frequent and the waves moved in an easterly direction from the Pacific Coast. It has also been argued that the entire Pacific Coast was at one time under the sea and was built as the result of volcanic eruption. Frequently islands appear off the coast in a single night. Hardly a traveling party has passed through Death \'alley that has not found petrified sponges, coral and shells, and there are min- erals of lava formation. It is not at all un- reasonable to offer that the Pacific Ocean at one time bordered Death Valley. Miniature volcanoes are still active in the desert. True it is that they do not emit lava, but hot mud is constantly thrown up, showing that in the subterranean passages there is still great heat. Among the Indians it was a legend for many years and has been traditionally handed down bv them that Death Valley is the monument to the violence of a volcano, earthquake and a tidal wave. They argued that mountains covered 37 262721 the basin which is now Death Valley, and that the heights were inhabited by Indian tribes. These people were continually at war making seige for the most trivial causes. The Great Spirit of the redskins threatened that unless warfare ceased he would on a cer- tain day command the mountain to break open, the sea to cross the land and the Great Spirits to light all of the fires under the earth. The warning was disobeyed. The volcano blew off its head, the earth opened for miles and the sea passed over the land. Those who were not killed by the lava and the poisonous gases were drowned. Only a few survived, and these were under the protec- tion of the Great Spirit. And on the fourth day the waves receded, the earth ceased trem- bling and the crust of the volcano fell away, forming the great bowl or sink of the present Death Valley. There is on the mountain sides a very pro- nounced line much resembling a beach, with sufficient impression on the rocks to warrant a belief of wave action. Sometimes the foothills in the distance appear to be ripples and waves ; as if some kind of liquid was pouring down 38 their sides. Upon reaching the top of them they are found to be as sharp as knife blades, and the opposite sides are almost perpendicu- lar. It was early in the morning when Swamper Ike and I left the remainder of the party and started for a cave which he said had been es- tablished and occupied by a prehistoric people. Through a sinuous canon and rocky and pre- cipitious natural passes we rode, and even our burros, sure-footed as they were, frequently hesitated before stepping. For twenty-five miles we continued this dangerous journey, each moment expecting to be hurled into one of the deep abysses below. In a ravine we tied our horses, for the re- mainder of the trip to the cave was over a still more rocky country, where l^urros were use- less. Part of the way we crawled, occasionally climbing a particularly steep rock, and at last — • our hands and knees bruised — arrived at the base of a mountain still robed in its cloak of lava. Here and there a mound dotted the wild- erness, marking the resting places of people whom we know nothing of. 39 That they were intelligent and artistic is demonstrated by the characters of the sepul- chres and the obsydian and agate arrowheads which we found. Three hundred feet from where we stood was the dark mouth of the cave, and in the dismal quiet that prevailed in that God for- saken country, it seemed to be beckoning with yawning jaws for the explorer who had the courage to enter its depths. As we plunged into the darkness of the mountain chamber, Ike struck a match, and the friction of the phosphorus and sulphur strik- ing the standstone wall, piercingly re-echoed through the cave. The light of a lantern laid bare the treasures of the cliff dwelling. Its floor and walls were of red sandstone, and had been carefully and artistically hewn. The fragments of beautifully carved pottery lay on the floor, and scratched in the sandstone here and there were the hieroglyphics of a lost people. Swamper Ike had been there before and to him this strange testimony was not surprising. 40 On his first trip he had explored the depths of that cave and succeeded in finding a treasure more valuable to him than its weight in gold. It was a well-made axe of copper, with a han- dle of the same mineral. It was finely tem- pered, and although he had had it in his posses- sion for years and had frequently used it when driving a borax team across Death Valley, it had never lost its edge. To the Egs'ptians we attribute the secret of tempering copper. Nearly all scientific parties are engaged in researches along the Nile en- deavoring to solve the mystery, and who knows but what they, like the prospector, have dis- dainfully walked over the treasure-box. Unaccounted for are the "lost tribes of Is- rael !" Is it unreasonable to oiTer that they might have crossed the great Atlantic and set- tled in this region ? Do not the Indians who in- habit the valley argue that they are the most sacred children of the Great Spirit, and when their customs are investigated does it not ap- peal to the searcher, that the beginning of their beliefs must have been based upon something more than the superstition of the savage mind ? In the extreme recesses of the cave we found a niche and carefully examined it. Our hearts 41 beat with quick pulsations and the fever of ex- citement and curiosity had assumed control of us. In that little niche lay a small roll of hide. \\'e carried it outside the cave so that na- ture's light might fall upon it, for we knew not what it might reveal. Unrolling the hide, we spread it on the £rround. Roughly etched in the skin was the following autograph : "Dear One : — Thou are young and fair. There are many hearts that love thee with a deep affection, but they will perish one by one, like leaves in the cold winds of autumn, and the dust of death will cover them. Thence thou wilt read within thy sacred autograph collection and each page will tell in deep and voiceless eloquence of days too beautiful to last. The tones of lowly lost friends will swell upon the twilight winds like notes of low Aoellian melo- dy ; their eyes will gaze all mournful into thine, their arms will fold thee in one last embrace, and years of care and grief will seem to have passed away, and thou wilt dream thou are a girl once more." To E — This document is probably the last of an un- fortunate lover who had decided to enter Death 42 U-Ui^l l»j-JLL (T^LTVll^h. J>-^ "tjy ^vo- "^^-■^ VATvU. 4.^^ CUjl- -T, . Ww> rctyi o A reproduction of the message found on a piece of hide in the cave. \'alley in the hope of finding- gold, and with riches and his heart to lay at her feet, return and again ask the girl he adored to listen to his ofit'erings of love. He had undoubtedly become lost in that great region as have so many others, and as the grip ot death was tightening upon him etched his last message, but did not finish it. An Indian once told Swamper Ike of the finding of a body of a white man and the hide. The redskin buried the corpse and threw the hide into the niche. And thus is explained the "Why, When and Hozv of the Traditional Lore of Swamper Ike." 43 D. A. HUFFORD & CO., Publishers of "THE REAL RAMONA OF Mrs. Helen Hunt Jackson's Famous Novel/' (Five Souvenir Bindings.) "EL CAMINO REAL, THE Highway Connecting the Twenty-one Missions." (Five Souvenir Bindinge-) "DEATH VALLEY ; Swamper Ike's Traditional Lore: Why, When, How?" (Five Souvenir Bindings.) Manufacturers of Souvenir and Burnt Novelties. Los Angeles, Cal. '«^« mi *->i ^5?, - - 't*' 1#- J'v>. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ^ ^ This book is DUE on,th& las m9 g ]^4j. fm^ APR 2 9 194S DEC 1:41949 MAH11195I NOV 1 5 1952 DEC 3 RECO WAY i ^ '^^^ 7 W ;> 2 2 1980 iL-9-15 5m-2,'36 Stamped below R(fi' ;jOtlMl* oSi^?«*^ OISG^iAr,f URt J&lli 1980 JAN 2 1980 Ik OCT U 6 idbg JUL221986 fill OCT 07 1991 i^iP *».t; t<^- ilAY 1 5 »73 JliN24l99^ tETD 10 ifPi JUN 2 6 1991 ^