-
GHOSTS
Do Not Disturb!
by Madeleine Rodack
N THE year 1540 theburning sun of westernPapagueria blazeddown
upon the helmetsand breastplates of acavalcade of Spanish
soldiers plodding wearily across thewastes of sand and rock.
Coronado, stillfilled with disappointment at findingonly poor drab
Indian villages in placeof seven golden cities, had sent
CaptainMelchior Diaz to lead an expedition ofexploration toward the
West. And so itwas that on a hot September day the firstwhite men
traveled the route of Caminodel Diablo. Thanks to their
Indianguides who knew the water holes, theyreached the Colorado
River. The ruggedtrail they blazed remained for futuretravelers to
follow—Father Kino, FatherGarces, Juan Bautista de Anza,
goldseekers and early settlers, one of whomwas named Nameer. Tales
of the hard-ships they endured gave the "Devil'sRoad" its
forbidding name.
Tracks in the desert do not disappeareasily.
April, 1968 / Desert Magazine / 23
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The Camino del Diablo is still theretoday.
My husband, Juel, and I had longwanted to find out to what
extent themodern world had intruded upon thisancient route.
Inspired by the writings offormer travelers—Father Kino's
memoirsand his companion Manje's records; CarlLumholtz, who
followed the road in1910; Godfrey Sykes, who drove it inthe 1920s;
later Harold Weight (DES-ERT, Sept. 1949) and Randall Hender-son
(DESERT, April 1940 and Jan.
1951)—we set out to explore it our-selves.
The Old Yuma Trail, as it was some-times called, now lies within
the juris-diction not only of the Cabeza PrietaGame Refuge, but
also of the Luke AirForce Bombing and Gunnery Range.They both gave
us permisison to enter,although they wouldn't guarantee thatour
Volkswagen bus would get through,even accompanied by a friendly
jeep.
Coming in from Ajo through the backdoor of Organ Pipe Cactus
National
Above: Grave of the mysterious Nameer in the Pinacate lava flow.
These stones haveremained undisturbed for almost 100 years. Circle
below lies near base of Tordillo
Mountain and marks the grave of eight persons.
Monument, we found ourselves in wild-erness before actually
reaching the routeof the Camino, which came up from be-low the
border. We made Papago Wellby lunch time and found there a
modernpump bringing water into a tank com-plete with faucet. There
was an old cor-ral and the ruins of a building. An an-cient rusty
sign out on the desert facingnorth indicates U.S. customs on
theright. The place was once used as a cus-toms house and border
crossing point.To our surprise, we found a Californiafamily camped
there and enjoying thedesert roads in a sand buggy towed be-hind
their camper truck.
Though not yet on the old Camino, wesoon came upon the first
relic of thedrama and tragedy of the desert. Abouttwo miles beyond
Papago Well we founda pile of stones to the right of the roadmarked
by a cross made of two strips ofiron. On the back was written
"DavidL. O'Neil." At this point our map show-ed the O'Neil Hills
and O'Neil Passand we wondered who this man had beenwho left his
name so markedly on thearea. We later learned he was a prospec-tor
who died there of exhaustion about1916. When his burro wandered
intoPapago Well, his body was found andburied on the spot where he
died.
Beyond the low pass, we came downinto a sandy playa which we
traversed,with our fingers crossed, until we reach-ed the safety of
a rocky mesa that spilledacross the border from the Pinacate
lavaflow. Our map informed us that thisroad now was following the
actual routeof the Camino del Diablo. On the lavaflow, we noticed a
pattern of rocks laid
SONOYTA ""-.
TO PUNTA PENflSCO
Approximate Route«of »
Camino del Diablo "
yan.TaNfit.Li;,
24 / Desert Magazine / April, 1968
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out which spelled the name "Nameer"and the date 1871. Beside
them was apile of stones in the shape of a cross.Who was Nameer?
One man, or a fam-ily? And who placed these stones wherethey had
lain for 97 years marking thegrave? In the same area, embedded
inthe ground, were also rows of stonesforming parts of squares and
rectangu-lar shapes, possibly bits of letters thatmight have marked
other graves. Haddisaster struck here in 1871, or werethese the
graves of lone travelers broughtto die by strange coincidence in
the samespot?
Crossing another sandy playa wepaused to admire the glowing
pinkishgranite range of the Sierra Pinta and,ahead, forbidding
Sierra de la CabezaPrieta. As we approached the moun-
Some of the tanks hold a generous supply of water.
tains, several branches of the Caminowound into low passes. We
picked themost northerly, which looked like thebest, and came upon
another pile ofstones, apparently a grave.
As the sun dropped low, we bouncedinto a small valley dominated
by a wind-mill and two small buildings of corru-gated iron. One is
a cabin for GameRefuge personnel who stop here occa-sionally; the
other is a neat little out-house. Under the water tank of the
wind-mill an enclosure contains a very prac-tical, through
primitive shower. This isTule Well. Civilization had reached
theCamino after all! A nearby hill is
The giant ironwood tree is still a landmark on the Camino. The
Tinajas Altas loomin the background.
said only three miles to Tule Tank, itwas not at that spot. A
couple of roadsto the right seemed possible, but whiletrying one of
them we stuck in the deepsand of a long arroyo. After much
dig-ging, jacking-up and roadbuilding, weturned back and finally
found a littletrack between the two roads that led toa narrow
canyon a few hundred yardsoff the road. There a sign told us wewere
at Tule Tank.
A short walk up the drainage took usto a pleasant spot among the
rocks, sur-rounded by vegetation and edged by asandy beach. We
recognized it as TuleTank from the photograph in Lumholtz'sNew
Trails in Mexico, but now therewas no water. By digging about a
footdown we managed to create enough ofa pool to have bolstered the
life of aparched traveler, though hardly enoughto fill his water
bottles. Up the canyonwe did find a little water in a smalltank,
but quite inaccessible to a wearywayfarer.
There is some controversy as to whe-ther Tule Tank is the one
Kino calls theTinaja de la Luna. Many feel that theTinaja de la
Luna is the Heart Tank inthe Sierra Pinta, but the Game
Refugeidentifies it with Tule. Considering thatKino had to build a
trail of rocks up tothe tank for his mules to reach the water,it
would seem that this is not the place,as it looks reasonably
accessible to ani-mals. Because of this, our vote went toHeart
Tank.
To assist future travelers, we stopped
crowned by a monument commemora-ting the dedication of the Game
Refuge,including plaques from various BoyScout troops. An old
custom's house signidentified Tule Well as another formerborder
crossing point.
We camped in a clump of trees in themiddle of the clearing and
enjoyed asumptuous dinner cooked over a camp-fire while a brilliant
moon illuminatedour first night on the Old Yuma Trail.
Resisting the temptation to tackle aroad to the north that led,
according toa U.S. Geological Survey sign, to theCabeza Prieta
Tanks and uncertainwater, we continued east. Though a sign
April, 1968 / Desert Magazine / 25
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back at the road and made a sign ofrocks on the ground at the
turn-off. Wehope it will be durable enough to be ofhelp.
In the Tule Tank area we found our-selves in a region of
spectacular moun-tain formations where sharp white gran-ite ranges
contrast with neighboringpeaks, like chocolate sundaes. It is
thewhite rock at the base, capped by darkbrown volcanic flows
splashing downthe sides in irregular streaks, that giveit the name
of Cabeza Prieta, or "DarkHead." Most spectacular along our
routewas Tordillo Mountain, a towering steepmesa with chocolate
dripping down itssides. In the lava beds near this moun-tain there
are interesting fields for rockhunters and we spotted a beautiful
clus-ter of garnets on a large boulder in anearby canyon.
The old road has disappeared into thedesert somewhere past Tule
Tank, but wefound it again near the base of TordilloMountain. At an
intersection we cameupon another piece of history—a largecircle of
rocks with a straight line ofsmaller ones inside it, and another
clusterthat looked like a broken figure 8. Here,again, legend has
taken over, whateverthe true facts may be. Lumholtz recountsa story
told by his Mexican guides ofsome prosepctors killed here by
mauraud-ing Indians and buried at this spot.Weight tells a colorful
tale of this beingthe grave of a Mexican pioneer familywho died of
thirst because their waterjug had broken. In any case, a grave itis
and whatever its origin ,it is part ofthe tragic history of the
Camino delDiablo.
From here the old road looked asthough it hadn't been traveled
for years,although it was visible. Less than threemiles to the west
we came upon a hugeironwood tree at the edge of an arroyo.Here we
made our second night's camp.
The desert here is wide and flat andthe Tinajas Altas range
crosses the west-ern horizon. Vegetation is mostly lowgreasewood,
though some palo verdehas sprung up. The ironwood tree,described
and photographed by Lum-holtz in 1910, is a landmark. Hender-son
mentioned it in DESERT in 1950and photographed it to see if it
hadgrown since Humholtz's day. We fol-lowed suit and added our
photographsto the record. It has grown some, but
its shape and pattern of branches areclearly the same. Lumhoits
relates thestory of a family of 14 who were eitherkilled by Indians
or died of thirst buriednear this tree, but we were unable tolocate
any sign of their graves. Sevenmiles further, however, we came
uponan immense figure 14 laid out in largestones. Could this have
been where thefamily died? If so, how could Lum-holtz have confused
it with the area ofthe ironwood tree? Another mystery ofdesert and
legend. Near the 14 are acouple of piles of stones, one in theshape
of a cross, the other a small circle.Straight ahead is the steep
shallowcanyon where the Tinajas Altas tumblelike irregular steps
down the mountain-side.
Deep grain storage holes are evidence ofearly Indian
habitation.
The Tinajas Altas appeared to Lum-holtz as a rather depressing
place. Per-haps the gruesome history of travelersdying at the foot
of the rocks, unable toreach the water in the upper tanks whenthe
lower one was dry, gave it a tinge offoreboding. In his time, too,
the ridgeopposite the mountain, closing in the endof the canyon
from the east, still showedthe graves of those who had died
there,marked by stones and crosses. He countednearly 60. Now the
ridge has been level-ed off on top and during the 1940s acamp was
maintained there as a controlpost for checking hoof and mouth
diseaseof cattle. The graves disappeared, thoughthose buried in
them may not all havebeen disturbed. The ruins of the campconsist
of old chicken wire, crackingcement floors, and a few ancient
boardsand corrugated iron sheets. Rusty tincans are everywhere and
the place isquite a mess.
26 / Desert Magazine / April, 1968
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The Tanks themselves are impressive.There are nine of them. The
lowest isreached by a short hike up a rocky trail.Its sides are
steep, but the water in itwas high. The second tank requires awalk
up the face of a sharply slopingrock. This requires some effort and
tra-velers weakened by thirst might havehad difficulty making it.
We climbedup as far as the fourth tank, but wentno further as the
cliffs become steep anddangerous to cling to. The third andfourth
tanks held good quantities ofwater, but they were difficult to
reach.
Giving up this route, we headed up adraw to the right of the
ridge north ofthe tanks. This took us up over a higherridge, where
we came out far above theupper tanks and had to drop down intothe
valley below. Lumholtz was told ofcaves with petroglyphs to the
south ofthis valley. We failed to find them,but this upper canyon
is well worth fur-ther exploration.
Looking down from above we couldsee several of the highest
tanks. Thetop one was dry. We managed to getdown to the next one
which held water,but the three middle ones we could onlyadmire from
afar, as they seemed asinaccessible from above as from below.So we
climbed back over the ridge anddescended to camp.
Below the tanks, we discovered evi-dence of Indian habitation.
Many flatrocks are covered with grinding holes—one rock contained
128 of them, somea foot or more deep. Here and therebroken manos
turned up and some meta-tes lay among the stones of a
formercamper's fireplace. High in the cliffs tothe right we came
upon a cave decoratedwith several interesting petroglyphs.
For our third and final night in thedesert, we camped on a small
ridge atthe base of the mountain. Moonlight didstrange things to
these weird mountainsthat stood out in a sharp, silver white.It was
easy to imagine Indian ghosts for-ever grinding their corn on the
flatstones, or thirsty travelers clutching atthe smooth rock
surfaces in an attemptto reach precious water. This is a placeof
ghosts, of history and memory, and ofawesome beauty.
Returning to civilization the next dayby a straight, though
rough, road up theLechugilla Desert to Wellton, we leftall this
behind. There is a movement tomake this area into a National Park.
If
this should happen, we can only hopethat the Park Service will
preserve theunusual feature of this one—the feelingthat time has
not moved on, that nothinghas changed, that the days of the
oldCamino are still here, and that FatherKino on muleback, a
Mexican settler'soxcart or the pioneer wagon that mayhave been
named Nameer's will be com-ing down the moonlit trail any moment.We
hope it will respect this sense oftimelessness and not disturb the
ghostswho live here, for it is they and the harddusty road they
traveled that make thisland something special to visit. •
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April, 1968 / Desert Magazine / 17