El Camino del Diablo

El Camino

IN THE days when thousands upon thousands of immigrants were pouring into California, from the eastern and southern states, from Mexico and foreign countries, in a mad scram ble for gold, two roads in the Southwest be came historic overland highways. These two roads became notable, not for the sylvan beauty or historic background of the country through which they passed, but for the harsh, barren and waterless wastes which they traversed and for the countless graves that marked their desolate ways. The names of these two dreaded routes of travel were "La Jornada de Muerte" (The Journey of Death) and "El Camino del Diablo" (The Devil's Highway), the first in New Mexico and the second for the most part-in Arizona.

The extensive plain on the east side of the Rio Grande, between Dona Ana and old Fort Craig was known in pioneer days as "La Jornada de Muerte." It was some 98 miles in extent a stretch of sandy barren country, almost destitute of water. A trail had been laid across this waste in early Spanish days and many immigrant trains trying to reach California's golden stream took this old but dangerous route. As a consequence, it was the scene of many deaths by thirst and hun ger, and of many atrocious and sanguinary deeds, perpetrated by the fierce and ruthless Mescalero Apaches, whose hunting grounds were located in that region.

From the high peaks of the Sierra Blanca, which bound the sterile plain on its eastern side, the Mescaleros could easily discern any person or party traveling over its arid waste and adopt such plan of action as would most safely and easily ensure the certain destruc tion of the lonely traveler or weary, toiling caravan. Those who were able to make their way across this stretch of shifting sand, were so few that, in time, the route became known as "La Jornada de Muerte," on account of the bleaching bones that marked its way.

"El Camino del Diablo" followed along the extreme southern part of present-day Arizona, not far from the international boundary line that now separates Mexico from the United States. This dangerous trail across scorching desert sand is no longer used as a route of In travel and many there are among us who never even heard of its uncanny designa tion. The country traversed by "El Ca mino del Diablo' was equal in barrenness and desolation to that which was crossed by "La Jornada de Muerte" and danger from hostile savages was equally great on both lines of travel. In the heat of summer, the Sonora Desert -over which ran the Devil's Highway was a gray and melancholy waste almost entirely bereft of life a land of silence, solitude and blistering sunshine-a land truly cursed for some unknown reason by the gods of ancient days.

Yet, in spite of the manifold dangers, thousands of miners and adventurers of every kind and description eagerly took their chances along this bleak and dismal trail-all bound for California in quest of wealth and romance.

The "Devil's Highway" of olden days is most excellently described in the following words "From the junction (of the Gila and Colorado) to Sonoyta, a Mexican and Indian ranchero, or village, situated near the middle of the line (between Nogales and the Colorado), two roads run. The first one, which we will now de scribe, crosses the desert west of the Sierra del Gila, in a southeast direction, to a pass through one of its ridges leading to water-holes, called by the Mexicans Tinajas Altas.' These are natural wells formed in the gullies, or arroyos, on the sides of the mountains, by dams composed of fragments of rocks and sand washed down by heavy rains; they are filled up during the rainy seasons, and frequently furnish travelers with water for many months of the year, being, in fact, their only depend ence. There are eight of these tinajas, one above the other, the highest two extremely difficult to reach; as the water is used from the lower ones you ascend to the next higher, passing it down by means of buckets. It is dangerous to attempt the highest, as it requires a skillful climber to ascend the mountain, which is of granitic origin, the rocks smooth and slippery. Although no vegetation marks the place, still it is readily found. The distance to the 'Tinajas' (from the Colorado) is 45 miles over the desert plain already described; the first twelve through the heaviest kind of white sand, and it is next to an impossibility for a train to pass over it, even by doubling teams twelve mules to each wagon. "Sixteen miles and a half farther on (from Tinajas Altas) you reach the Tinajas del Tule, situated in the mountains of the same name,

Del Diablo [THE DEVIL'S HIGHWAY] By James M. Barney

Called so from the few scattered blades of coarse grass growing in their vicinity. The water here is found in an arroyo, walled in by huge high masses of granite rocks, which present a peculiar appearance, as they lie in smooth whitish lumps huddled together in every possible way. The road winds through the ridges of this sierra for many miles, and then passes over a plain in an easterly course until it turns the southern base of the 'Cerro Salado.' From this point it follows up the valley of a subterraneous creek (at two points of which sweet, or slightly brackish, water can be had by digging), to an Indian village called Quitovaquita, 54 miles from 'Tule.' At Quitovaquita there are fine springs running for the greater part of the year. "The road continues along the course of the subterranean stream until you reach the Rancho de Sonoyta, thriteen miles and a half farther

On. From the junction (of the Gila and Colorado) to within a short distance of this place (Sonoyta) a heavy road of 130 miles you look on a desert country. Near Sonoyta it is well covered with mesquite timber; in the valley, to the east of the town, there is some salt grass; but to the west, as far as the Colorado, scarce a blade is to be seen. A dull, wide waste lies before you, interspersed with low sierras and mounds, covered with black igneous rocks. The soil is a mixture of sand and gravel, the reflection from its white surface adding still greater torment to the intense and scorching heat of the sun. Well do I recollect the ride from Fort Yuma to Sonoyta and back, in the middle of August, 1855. It was the most tiresome I have ever experienced. Imagination cannot picture a more dreary, sterile country, and we named it the "Mal Pais." The burnt-lime-like appearance of the soil is ever before you; the very stones look like the scoriat of a furnace! there is no grass, and but a sickly vegetation, more unpleasant to the sight than the barren earth itself; scarce an animal to be seen not even the coyote or the hare to attract the attention, and, save the lizard and the horned toad, naught to give life and animation to this region. The eye may watch in vain for the flight of a bird; to add to all is the knowledge that there is not one drop of water to be depended upon from the Sonoyta to the Colorado or Gila. All traces of the road are sometimes erased by the high winds sweeping the unstable soil before them, but death has strewn a continuous line of bleached bones and withered carcasses of horses and cattle, as mounments to mark the way.

"Although I traveled over it (the Devil's Highway) with only four men in the most favorable time, during the rainy season of Sonora, our animals well rested and in good condition, still it was a difficult undertaking. On our return to the post (Fort Yuma) from Sonoyta, we met many emigrants returning from California, men and animals suffering from scarcity of water. Some men had died from thirst and others were nearly exhausted. Among those we passed between the Colorado and the "Tinajas Altas,' was a party composed of one woman and three men, on foot, a packhorse in wretched condition carrying all their belongings. The men had given up from pure exhaustion and laid down to die; but the woman animated by love and sympathy, had plodded on over the long, sandy road until she reached water, then clambering up the side of the mountain to the highest tinaja, she filled her "bota" (a sort of leather flask), and scarcely stopping to take rest, started back to resuscitate her dying companions. When we met them, she was striding along in advance of the men, animating them by her example." The most important stopping place on the "Camino del Diablo" was known as "Tinajas Altas" (High Tanks), where water was almost always available. Around this spot were woven most of the tales and legends of the Devil's Highway. These natural tanks or basins are situated in a narrow, rocky gorge, and were carved out of solid rock by the action of falling water which, during untold eons of time, has come tumbling down from a height of several hundred feet. The tanks when full will hold from 15,000 to 20,000 gallons of water and consist of a series of seven large basins and a number of smaller -ones. With the exception of the lowest tank, which can be approached by animals, they are somewhat difficult of access. The second, third and fourth tanks, although not far up the narrow canyon, can only be reached after a hard climb over steep, water-worn rocks, while the upper ones are only accessible after a difficult and hazardous ascent of several hundred feet. This water supply became very uncertain, however, when the road was heavily traveled -as was the case during the gold rush to California in the 50's and to the Colorado River diggings in the 60's and many deaths from thirst occurred at Tinajas Altas. And it was during these gold excitements that the death-roll of "El Camino del Diablo" became most appalling. That roll will never be written in full, since most of the unfortunate victims left no records behind-no indications of who they were or whence they came nothing but bleaching bones, slowly moldering to dust. During the few years that this road was heavily traveled, over 400 persons were said to have perished of thirst between Sonoyta and the Colorado River, a terrible toll of human lives even for such a dangerous desert road as the Devil's Highway; and its bleak and barren course was marked by forlorn and solitary graves, each with its cruciform heap of stones to mark the place of burial. A traveler over the Camino del Diablo once said that in a single day's ride of a little over 30 miles he counted 65 graves by the roadside and that in one an entire family had been buried. The horses of this ill-fated group had given out and, being unable to cross the scorching desert on foot, all perished together of thirst. Their bodies were found months later-by other more fortunate travelers and buried in one large sepulcher, which was covered with a cross of stones and a large circle of the same material. The carcasses of their horses and the wreckage of their wagon and belongings marked, for many years, the place of their death.

On a bluff-just to the east of Tinajas Altas -there is an old burial ground which, in early days, contained some 50 graves. These sepulchers were covered by stones laid on the ground in the form of a cross-and marked the last resting places of those who reached the "tinajas" to find the lower tanks dry and themselves too weak to climb to the ones above. Here they laid down to die and those who fol lowed gave them decent burial. But scores of others became lost in the wilderness of sand or succumbed to Apache treachery and left which ran the Devil's Highway, was proved during the past summer, when seven out of a party of nine persons died from thirst upon the hot desert sands of northwest Sonora. Starting from Santa Ana, about 75 miles below Nogales, this ill-fated party was on its way to Brawley, California, in order to save time and distance, took a little used road, which no one is advised to take without an extra supply of water, food and fuel. It was midsummer and the heat in that desert country was intense. Seven members of the party had succumbed to heat and thirst, when, by chance, an intinerant peddler-taking the same little-traveled roadcame upon the scene of death and distress. On August 5, 1941, the following statement was sent from Yuma to the press of the state: "The Devil's Highway "El Camino del Diablo" across the Sonora, Mexican desert added seven persons five of them members of a California family to its list of victims today,. T. H. Newman, sheriff, said the seven died Ana to Tia Juana, in northwestern Sonora." By Tinajas Altas and Sonoyta passed the ill-fated Crabb filibustering expedition on their way to Caborca, Sonora, where they were later annihilated as invaders of the country. By the same route also went the notorious Bell Gang, which, for a time, terrorized California soon after the discovery of gold. This band of ruffians entered Sonora and proceeded to commit even more heinous crimes than in California, until driven out of the state by the outraged Sonorans.

Raphael Pumpelly in his book "Across Asia and America" thus describes the famous Tinajas Altas in 1862. "We were approaching the Tinajas Altas, the only spot where, for a distance of nearly 120 miles, water might at times be found. "It was a brilliant moonlit night. On our left rose a lofty sierra, its fantastic sculpturing weird even in the moonlight. Suddenly we saw strange forms indefinable in the distance.

only their bleaching bones to tell the story of their adventure. Many years ago, the Papago and other Indian tribes were accustomed to camp at "Las Tinajas Altas" for the purpose of hunting "big horns" or mountain sheep, which then, as now, are the principal occupants of these forsaken and unhabited areas. In the vicinity of the tanks could be seen the remains of these Indian hunting camps, around which were strewn the horns of the animals they killed. These mountain sheep one of the most interesting of Arizona's wild animals are protected by nature in their desolate retreats, because hunters, fearing the waterless wastes, seldom dare to follow them into their desert feeding grounds.

That death still hovers over the region across from thirst and heat after their truck became stalled in sand 17 miles east of San Luis, Sonora, below the border from Yuma. "Two survivors of the ordeal were brought to a hospital here. The condition of one was still critical. "Newman said Mexican officials estimated the party had been stranded four or five days without food or water. "Elias Cornejo had gone for help. His naked body was found five miles away. Rafael Cornejo, dispairing of his life and unwilling to suffer longer, wrote a note giving details of his destination and identification, then slashed his throat. Another member of the party, Newman said, slashed his wrists. "The road is an old stage coach route which skirts the United States border from Santa As we came nearer our horses became uneasy, and we saw before us animals standing on each side of, and facing the trail. It was a long avenue between rows of mummified cattle, horses and sheep. "Nothing could be more weird. The pack animals bolted, and Poston and I rode through with difficulty. "Ten or twelve years before, during the time when meat was worth in California almost its weight in gold dust, it paid to take the risk of losing on this desert nearly all of a herd, if a few survived. "If no water was found at the Tinajas Altas

"Most or all of the animals, and some of the men, were sure to die.

"In the intensely dry and pure air there was no decomposition; all the dead simply became mummies.

"This weird avenue had been made by some travelers with a sense of humor, and with a fertile imagination which had not been deadened by thirst.

"Our next camp was made at the Tinajas Altas or high tanks. Here, in a steep ravine in the mountains, there is a series of five or six large pot holes, one above the other, gouged in the granite bed of the gorge. This gorge was apparently the outlet onto the desert of a system of drainage of the sierra. It had been carved either by erosion in a long past period of a different climate, or by occasional cloud bursts happening through some scores of milleniums. After a rain these holes are all filled, but as the season advances the lower ones become empty, and the traveler is obliged to climb to the higher tanks and bail water into the one below him, and from this into the next, and so on until there is enough in the lowest to quench the thirst of his animals. The higher tanks are accessible only at risk to life. After a succession of dry seasons it sometimes happened that travelers arrived here already dying from thirst. Finding no water in the lower holes, they climbed in vain to the higher one where, perhaps exhausted, they fell from the narrow ledge, and the tanks in which they sought life became their graves.

Although "Las Tinajas Altas" are still little known on account of their isolated location, yet it is very interesting to note that they are shown on the map made by Father Kino, the Jesuit missionary, of the region around the Gila and the Gulf of California, as the result of his travels and explorations from 1698 to 1701. He was probably the first white man-under Indian guidance to view the "tinajas" and the surrounding Sonora desert.

During his life-long residence in Arizona, the writer was able to interview only one per-son-Don Francisco Salazar, once a prosperous planter and merchant of Hermosillo, Mexico-who had ever crossed the Sonora Desert by way of the "Camino del Diablo" and lived to tell the tale. Don Francisco journeyed over the dreaded Devil's Highway-not only once but twice-reaching his destination safely each time. Twenty years or more ago when the was about 88 years of age he told the following story: "Si, senor, when I was a young man-full of the spirit of adventure-I traveled over the terrible Camino del Diablo, the old trail or road from Sonora to California. It was called the Camino del Diablo, because thirst, hunger and Apache Indians took a fearful toll of those who chanced to pass that way. The victims who fell by the wayside along that dreaded desert highway, died unprepared and un-shrived, without the comfort of priestly admonition, and so, perhaps, did not reach the gates of heaven ¿Quien puede decir?' Anyway, this deadly trail became known as 'El Camino del Diablo' (The Devil's Highway), a fitting and appropriate title.

nition, and so, perhaps, did not reach the gates of heaven ¿Quien puede decir?' Anyway, this deadly trail became known as 'El Camino del Diablo' (The Devil's Highway), a fitting and appropriate title.

"As I said before, señor, I was born in the state of Sonora, Mexico, on September 10, 1832. When 17 years of age, I joined a party of about twenty persons most of them from Sonorawho were preparing to start for the goldfields of California. I was the youngest member of the party and I induced half a dozen other young fellows to join the expedition, one of them-Miguel Costello becoming my partner-in our adventure. There were eight or nine married men and our guide was Don Alejandro Cordova, who had already made a journey to California over the Camino del Diablo and had returned to Mexico by water, landing at the port of Guaymas. From there, he had journeyed overland to Sonora, where he agreed to become our guide to the sunny, golden land of California.

"We started on our journey in the spring of 1850, soon after the news of the gold discovery reached Sonora. We took the regular road to California by Sonoyta, San Domingo, Quito-va-quita, to the south of the Sierra Sala-da, to Tinajas del Tule and then over the Tule Desert ot the Tinajas Altas (High Tanks), an important stopping place on the road to California; from the Tinajas, we followed the real Camino del Diablo for miles and miles across the Sonora Desert to the Colorado River. This stretch of desert is the most dreary and desolate that can possibly be imagined, a sandy, waterless waste 50 miles across into which hardly a living thing ever ventures."

"Some 20 miles to the west of the Tinajas was a permanent landmark called 'Las Cue-vitas' (little caves), in some rough, volcanic knolls to the south of the road, which at this point went through a pass between 'Las Cuevitas' and the Sierra del Gila.

"We were pretty well equipped for the long and dangerous trek, having burros and small Mexican mules for pack animals and being well-armed to resist (if necessary) Indian attacks. For food, we carried large quantities of carne seca (sun-dried beef), pinole (parched corn or wheat ground to a very fine meal) and panocha (a sweet product made from sugar cane).

Our water-bags-absolute necessities on such a trip were made of 'vaqueta' (leather), well smeared on the outside with tallow and then covered with a woven mat of grass. They were slung across the back of the pack animals, one half of the bag handing on each side. These water-bags were then (and yet are) made by the Indians of Mexico.

"Not all of us had horses to ride, but those who did, had very good animals. My own horse was an excellent steed, large, strong and dependable. Each member of the party carried 'dos pistolas' (two pistols), a 'carabina' (shotgun), and a 'bota de vaqueta' (a sort of leather canteen for carrying water for individual use).

"We had to travel at night for fear of the Apache and concealed ourselves and stock during the day. We had selected the spring time to make our journey, during the fall and winter months, was the most dangerous period to travel over the Camino del Diablo. At that time of the year, the Apache were most active in their raids and attacks. By then the farmers in the rancherias and pueblitos of northern Sonora had gathered their crops of grain and corn and stock in general was fat and in good condition. That was raiding time for the Apache and they swarmed along the trails and roads and in the vicinity of water-holes and small communities, and we selected the night time in which to move along the dangerous trail, as Apache seldom attacked after dark.

"Many people especially 'los Americanos' thought that the winter months were the best for traveling over the Sonora Desert, but the danger from blood-thirsty savages was then very great. In the summer-time, the Apache were inclined to remain in their mountain haunts and but infrequently visited the hot desert country, which could furnish but little comfort or sustenance.

"Our journey as far as Sonoyta was without incident, except that we always had to be on the lookout for Apache. Between Sonoyta and Tinajas Altas a distance of some 80 milesthere was only one place-Las Tinajas del Tule at which water could be obtained, and, between the Tinajas Altas and the Colorado, there was absolutely no water of any kind.

"When nearing Tinajas Altas, we camped in a secluded spot some distance from the tanks, fearing an Indian ambush. We then drew lots for the purpose of selecting three men who were to go after water; it fell to my lot to be one of that group. Water was not plentiful at the Tinajas and we had a great deal of difficulty in getting sufficient for our needs. We would first bring water for the stock and then for our own use. All these activities had to be performed after night-fall under the supervision of our guide."Travelers had to be careful in approaching the few water-holes along the road, as they were favorite places of ambush for hostile Indians. At Tinajas Altas in the old days Apache were always skulking in the nearby hills and arroyos, ready to pounce upon weary or weakened parties or some careless and unwary traveler. The Indians sneaking from place to place would signal each other by imitating the cry or call of various wild birds and animals, such as the owl, crow, coyote, etc. At times around the tanks these calls could be heard continually, giving to the surroundings a weird and unearthly setting, as if the evil spirits of countless generations were hovering about the place.

"The immediate area around the Tinajas was a vast graveyard of unknown dead and the road from there to the Colorado was marked the whole way by the dried carcasses of mules, horses and cattle and the scattered bones of human beings, slowly turning into dust. In such a region but little time can be given to conventional things and the dead were left where they fell to be sepulchred (if at all) by the fearful sand storms that sweep at times over the desolate waste.

"We started from the Tinajas with as full a supply of water as we could carry and managed to reach the Colorado River without serious mishap. (We hurried over this part of the desert as fast as we could and did not dare make a fire while crossing for fear of the Indians and so had to eat our meals cold. We struck the Colorado some miles below its junction and camped on the California side for a short time to recuperate. We were then among the Yuma Indians but they caused us no trouble. As a rule the Indian tribes of the Southwest were more unfriendly to the whites than they were to the Mexicans. There was much in common between the Indians and the Mexicans (the latter all having some Indian strain) but nothing at all between the whites and the Indians. We continued our way into California and in the month of September, 1850, reached Placerville (first called Hangtown), where much placer gold was still being taken out.

"We stayed in the Placerville country for about a year. Then some of our party, especially the married men who had left their families behind, began to talk about going back. I had done well financially and decided to join them. After counting noses, however, it was discovered that only eight of the original party were ready to return, the others electing to remain and grow up with the country. At that time, the finest farming land could be had for little or nothing in California. Among those to remain was my part ner, Miguel, whom I never saw or heard of again. Other additions to the party, however, made it strong enough to undertake the journey.

"Finally, we started out on the return trip, well supplied with food, well mounted, and well armed for defense against the Indians. I left Placerville with about $50,000 in gold and others in the party had varying amounts -some as little as $2,000. Fortune is fickle, señor, and in gold fields, all did not fare the same. We returned by way of Los Angeles, then a small Mexican community, with the customary display of drinking, gambling and fandango resorts. Here, being young, I lost some of the gold that I had gathered at Placerville.

"After a while, we left Los Angeles for the Colorado River which we reached without adventure. We crossed that stream and, for the second time began the hard and dangerous trip across the bleak and barren Sonora Desert. One afternoon-when we had gone about two thirds of the way from the Colorado to Tinajas Altas we saw a band of Apache riding along some hills quite a long distance away. We immediately concealed ourselves as best we could and remained there that night and the following day; when it became dark, we started again for the Tinajas, where we arrived in safety. Eventually we reached our homes in Sonora, where, I bought a sugar plantation, married, and settled down-Gracias a Dios!"

Such was the plain, unvarnished tale of Don Francisco-now retold in English by the writer.

Present-day travelers throughout the Southwest, as their shining cars roll along smooth and faultlessly maintained highways, give but little thought to those other days when long trains of covered wagons swayed and creaked along rough and boulder-strewn roads that were, in reality, little more than trails; while all along the way, hostile savages-who lived by murder and pillage-menaced them at every turn. Months of weary and dangerous travel were necessary to reach California from the eastern and southern states and from the northern part of Mexico. But, today, speeding automobiles will cover in a few hours the distance that it took the builders of the West months and months to traverse. Such is the visible progress that modern transportation has made.