Introduction: The Desert of Illusions Dawn breaks over the Mojave Desert with a hushed reverence. The air is cool and clear, and distant mountains seem deceptively close in the sharp light of early morning. Shimmering heat waves appear on the horizon as the sun climbs, hinting at water that is not there. This land of illusions plays tricks on the eyes and ears. A lone traveler here sinks into the silence and wide-open space, and soon, the mind starts picking up signals most folks usually miss. Shadows at the edge of vision start to move. The senses sharpen. Moreover, sometimes, the line between what is real and imagined blurs.
The Vast Silence and Heightened Senses
One of the Mojave’s most striking features is its deep silence. Away from towns or traffic, the desert can be nearly soundless. In that stillness, the ears strain to find and often invent input. People in extreme quiet sometimes report hearing phantom sounds: faint music, whispers, or even voices. The Mojave is not a sealed room, but the open expanse and quiet air have a similar effect. Cut off from the usual background noise, a lone traveler here sinks into the silence and wide-open space, and soon; the mind starts picking up signals most folks usually miss. Hearing becomes hypersensitive. One may notice their heartbeat or the scrape of a boot echoing off distant rocks. Some desert wanderers describe hearing whispers on the wind—just enough to make some turn their heads.
The visual sense sharpens, too. With little to block the view, a person can see for miles. The eye picks up every flicker of movement, and peripheral vision becomes especially active. A lizard’s dart, the shift of a shadow, and even heat ripples can spark a reaction. At night, stargazers in the desert rely on this phenomenon to spot dim stars: looking slightly away from a faint object makes it more visible. However, this same sensitivity can also create illusions. Many travelers have felt watched, only to find a cactus or rock behind them. In the Mojave, the senses amplify every detail; when the brain cannot make sense of something, it fills in the gaps.
Pareidolia: Faces in the Rocks
The Mojave is a playground for pareidolia—the tendency to see faces or figures in random patterns. Among the weathered boulders of Joshua Tree or the sculpted cliffs of Red Rock Canyon, it is easy to find rocks that look like skulls, animals, or crouched figures. The mind craves familiarity, and light and shadow give just enough shape to suggest meaning. Visitors often describe seeing people in the rocks or animals in the hills, only to realize it is just how the sun hits the stone. These illusions shift throughout the day. At noon, a rock that’s nothing special might take on a ghostly presence by twilight.
The Mojave’s heat can create true optical illusions even beyond static shapes. Mirages appear across dry lakebeds and salt flats, fooling the eye with phantom water or hovering images. Early travelers chased these shimmering lakes, only to watch them vanish as they approached. The desert air plays with light, creating a shifting, surreal world where the landscape seems to breathe.
Whispers on the Wind: Auditory Hallucinations.
Silence can be just as disorienting as glare. A surreal quiet settles in when the wind is still in the Mojave. People begin to hear things that are not there. The brain, used to constant sound, invents input to fill the void. A whisper might turn out to be wind through Joshua tree branches. Footsteps creeping along could be a kangaroo rat in the brush. The wind can sound like voices when it moves through rock crevices or cactus spines.
In certain corners of the desert, the land itself finds a voice. At Kelso Dunes, when dry sand slips down the slopes just right, it releases a deep, resonant hum—a low, booming note that can hang in the air for minutes. Stumbling across it by chance might give the impression that the ground is singing. The sound is entirely natural yet out of context; it feels otherworldly. It feeds the notion that the Mojave is not just a place but a presence—alive, alert, and willing to speak to those who listen.
Desert Lore and Spiritual Thresholds
Across cultures, deserts are seen as places of vision and revelation. In the Bible, prophets went into the wilderness to confront themselves and hear the divine. Among the Mojave and Chemehuevi people, the desert is not empty but full of spirit. Every mountain and river has a voice. Sitting alone in silence is a way to hear it.
Modern wanderers sometimes have similar experiences. A desert vision might not come with trumpets or lightning but with subtle signs: a shape in a rock, a whisper of wind that feels like a message, or a sudden connection to something beyond oneself. Artists, mystics, and solo hikers often describe the Mojave as a threshold where imagination and reality touch.
Startled or Spellbound: Reactions to the Unseen
These experiences rattle some people. A shadow seen at dusk, a whisper heard at midnight, or a rock that looks too much like a figure can spark real fear. The Mojave has sent many travelers packing, spooked by the sense that something is watching.
Others embrace it. They return again and again, drawn by the mystery. For them, the strange sights and sounds are not threats but invitations to feel small, listen, and see. In this way, the Mojave becomes not just a place but a mirror. What appears in the silence may reveal more about the observer than the land itself.
Conclusion: Embracing the Mirage
In the Mojave, the line between real and imagined begins to blur. The desert does not deceive—it sharpens the senses, asking for attention. A shadow might be only a rock or open a door in the mind. A sound might be wind, or it might be the desert speaking.
Some leave shaken, others changed. One way or another, the Mojave does not simply reveal itself—it reflects what the traveler carries into the silence.
Tucked between the Inyo Mountains and the Panamint Range in eastern California lies Panamint Valley—a vast, arid stretch of desert where stories cling to the rocks and dust. Part of the northern Mojave Desert, this remote basin has seen centuries of human presence, from Native American trade routes and outlaw hideouts to a silver mining boom and military testing. Surprise Canyon is at the heart of this tale, a rugged cut through the mountains that once served as both a refuge and a gateway to fortune.
Native Roots and Early Exploration For thousands of years, the Timbisha Shoshone and other Native American groups lived in and around Panamint Valley. They followed game, gathered plants, and knew the subtle signs of water in this harsh landscape. Early explorers and pioneers during the California Gold Rush would later follow their trails. However, few stayed long in the face of the valley heat, dryness, and isolation.
Outlaws in Surprise Canyon In early 1873, three men hiding from the law—William L. Kennedy, Robert L. Stewart, and Richard C. Jacobs—discovered silver in the steep, narrow depths of Surprise Canyon. Some say they were drawn there by rumors of the Lost Gunsight Mine. Regardless, they struck it rich. Sources differ on the exact date: Nadeau places it in January, Wilson in February, and Chalfant in April. But by June, prospectors had filed 80 claims, and the ore was assaying at thousands of dollars per ton.
Big Money and Bigger Names Enter E. P. Raines, who secured a bond on some of the most promising claims and began promoting the new district. He drew attention by hauling a half-ton block of silver ore to Los Angeles and displaying it at the Clarendon Hotel. This bold stunt brought together jewelers, bankers, and freighters, who agreed to build a wagon road to the mines. Raines continued north to San Francisco and then Washington, D.C., where he met Senator John P. Jones of Nevada, a former Comstock miner and hero of a deadly fire. Jones loaned him $15,000 and soon partnered with fellow “Silver Senator” William M. Stewart to form the Panamint Mining Company.
The senators spent over $350,000 acquiring prime claims from known Wells Fargo robbers. Senator Stewart arranged amnesty for these men, with the condition that $12,000 in profits be paid to the express company as restitution. It is believed this arrangement convinced Wells Fargo to avoid opening an office in Panamint.
The Road to the Panamint Mines The silver rush in Surprise Canyon prompted the search for a better supply route. Senator Stewart noticed Meyerstein & Co., a San Bernardino firm, was already sending goods to the region. He encouraged Caesar Meyerstein to establish a stage line. In the fall of 1874, preparations began on a road from Cottonwoods on the Mojave River to the Panamints.
The Board of Supervisors appointed Aaron Lane as road overseer of the newly formed Mojave District. Lane hired a crew of Chinese laborers under foreman Charley Craw to begin construction. Miners objected to using Chinese labor, but Lane completed the project by mid-November. He advertised the route as an “excellent” road, and the Guardian praised the veteran for his work. Lane submitted a bill for $645.61, but the county approved only $500—a modest sum for 115 miles of desert road.
This San Bernardino-Panamint Road, sometimes called the Meyerstein Road or Nadeau Cut-Off, shortened the journey to the mines by cutting across from Cajon Pass through Victorville and Hodge (Cottonwoods), connecting with the Stoddard’s Well Road. While freighter Remi Nadeau operated the Los Angeles to Panamint route via Tejon Pass, the San Bernardino route originated separately. Despite the confusion in some sources, the Chinese labor used on the San Bernardino-Panamint Road under Captain Lane should not be mistaken for labor on Nadeau’s route.
According to the San Bernardino Weekly Argus, stops along the Meyerstein route included Meyerstein to Martin’s, Fears in Cajon Pass, Huntington’s (Victorville), Cottonwoods (Hodge), Wells, Second Crossing of the Mojave, Black’s Ranch, Granite, Willow Tree Station, and finally Post Office Springs, just before reaching Panamint. These links formed a vital corridor to one of the West’s wildest boomtowns.
The Rise of Panamint City By March 1874, Panamint had around 125 residents. It had no schoolhouse, church, jail, or hospital—and it never would. To avoid robbery on the lawless route to market, the senators cast silver into 450-pound “cannonballs” that could be hauled unguarded to Los Angeles. On November 28, the Idaho Panamint Silver Mining Company was formed with $5 million in capital, followed by the Maryland of Panamint and several others with an additional $42 million by year’s end. That same month, the Panamint News began publishing—though its editor fled town within days after stealing advertising revenue.
The town boomed. The winter of 1874-75 was its peak. Two stage lines operated, the Bank of Panamint opened, and 50 buildings lined Surprise Canyon. The Oriental Saloon claimed to be the finest outside San Francisco. Mules and burros were the main form of transport. The lone wagon doubled as a meat hauler and a hearse.
By January 1875, the population hit 1,500 to 2,000. Businesses thrived. A wire tramway sent ore from the Wyoming and Hemlock mines down to the Surprise Valley Mill and Water Company’s twenty-stamp mill. Wood costs $12 per cord, and miners earn $4 to $5.50 per day. The crumbling smokestack of this mill still stands. Daniel P. Bell, the mill’s builder, later died by suicide in Salt Lake City, reportedly after being diagnosed with cancer.
Crash and Decline Disaster came quickly. The collapse of the Bank of California in August 1875 shook confidence across the state. Panamint stock crashed, speculation dried up, and the Panamint News ceased publication. By November, the population had largely disappeared, with only a few hopefuls remaining. In July 1876, a cloudburst flooded Surprise Canyon, wiping out large sections of the town.
Senator Jones, once Panamint’s champion, held on until May 1877. But a market panic forced him to shut down the mill. Despite investing nearly two million dollars, the Silver Senators saw little return.
Later, Revivals and Post Office Spring Attempts to revive Panamint followed. Richard Decker reopened the post office during 1887 and worked claims into the 1890s. The site saw minor revivals into the 1920s and again in the 1940s. 1947-48, American Silver Corporation leased multiple claims and rebuilt the Surprise Canyon road but filed for bankruptcy in 1948. Interest returned in the 1970s, though the fractured and faulted veins proved challenging to follow.
Near the city ruins, Post Office Spring played an important role. Besides being a water source, it housed a secret mail drop during Panamint’s outlaw days. A box wired to a mesquite tree held letters marked “John Doe”; a rag on a nearby branch signaled mail had arrived. At night, fugitives collected or left messages in secret.
The Panamint Range: Geology and Life The Panamint Range, separating Panamint Valley from Death Valley, rises from about 1,000 to 11,049 feet at Telescope Peak. It’s part of MLRA 29f and features Precambrian sedimentary and metamorphic bedrock, Paleozoic marine sediments (Cambrian to Carboniferous), Mesozoic granite, and Pliocene basalt. Alluvial fans spread from steep slopes into the valleys. Processes shaping the range include mass wasting, fluvial erosion, deposition, and freeze-thaw cycles.
Vegetation follows elevation, too, from creosote bush and shadscale at lower levels to pinyon, limber pine, and bristlecone forests higher up. Surface water is scarce; streams run briefly during rains and snowmelt, draining into Panamint and Death Valleys.
The Road, the Valley, the Legend The road to Panamint, first carved to bring silver to market, is now a rugged path for adventurers. Panamint Valley itself, once crossed by Native trails and mule trains, is now visited by hikers, off-roaders, and desert wanderers: the Panamint Range towers above, its silent peaks guarding the stories of a forgotten boomtown.
Panamint is more than a ghost town. It mirrors Western ambition—where silver dreams, outlaw grit, and desert extremes shaped one of the wildest chapters in California history.
From across the Mojave and along the Mojave River, springs and other water sources shaped the trail down Cajon Canyon and into the southern California valleys. Trails from all directions met in this canyon and that in itself would possibly indicate that in the overall scheme of things some variety of trade may have taken place here where the trails cross.
Amuscupiabit – Cajon Canyon
During the winter months when snow is capping the mountains and the weather is cold the Cajon valley would have generally been warmer. With a good year, there would have been plenty to harvest and forage as well as game to hunt. Drought years may have brought little with it and the camp would have been a starvation camp with little to eat.
Rancherias
A rancheria, as the Mexicans called it, would have been a small settlement of Indians living in temporary huts while maintaining seasonal subsistence activities and trade.
It was among these rancherias … that the missions found the most fertile fields for producing laborers. Whether by trickery or physical force the villagers into the Catholic fold. Being taken to the mission was most likely the fate of the residents of the Serrano rancheria Amuscupiabit in the heart of the Cajon Pass.
The Old Spanish Trail had become increasingly used as a pack mule trail between New Mexico and California, and with this traffic came the opportunity for those to take advantage of the distant location and desperate nature of the land.
Hundreds and sometimes even thousands of stolen horses from the ranchos would burst through Coyote Canyon beginning their ‘journey of death’ across the Mojave.
California horses were beautiful creatures, and the mules were taller and stronger than those in New Mexico and they were easy to steal. The rolling hills and plains presented clear paths to the Cajon where numerous hidden canyons and washes were available to slip into and prepare for the furious run across the desert. Horses would be stolen in herds from many different ranchos at once. Hundreds of horses, even thousands could be commandeered and driven by just a few experienced thieves.
Chief Walkara, ‘Hawk of the Mountains ‘ and the greatest horse thief in all of history along with his band of renegade Chaguanosos, and notables such as Jim Beckwourth andPegleg Smithwould work together in this illegal trade. During one raid they were said to have coordinated the theft of 3,000-5,000 horses, driving them to Fort Bridger to trade for more horses to run to New Mexico to trade again. Horses would fall from exhaustion every mile and the local bands of Paiute would feast on the remains.
Coyote Canyon
. . . A few years later Mr. White established a camp in San Bernardino county at the mouth of Lytle creek and again started in the cattle business. Here he was joined by two other white men, who after agreeing to a plan to take up all of the valley lands deserted him before the consummation of the scheme. The Indians learning that he was alone decided that it would be a good time to make a raid and drive away the herds, and under the leadership of Chief Coyote, who was one of the craftiest and most vicious in that section, they accomplished their purpose. The next morning in company with an Indian boy of seventeen years, who was friendly to him, Mr. White started out to find the stock and overtook the thieves at the head of Cajon Pass. Here the Indians had camped and killed a horse, upon which they were feasting when Mr. White discovered them. Cleverly circling the camp he managed to get ahead of them and was endeavoring to stampede the stock when Chief Coyote saw him and started toward him. Waiting until the Indian was within forty or fifty yards of him Mr. White took steady aim and shot him dead, the report of the gun stampeding the cattle. They returned home, Mr. White and the Indian boy following and reaching the valley in safety after having killed a number of other redskins. The boy had been of great assistance to him by loading his extra gun.
When the governor heard of this affair he sent for Mr. White and ascertaining that he had no land but desired to receive a grant, application was made and surveys taken, and in a few years he received papers conveying to him thirty-two thousand acres of land.
A HISTORY of CALIFORNIA Extended History of Its Southern Coast Counties – Vol II — J. M. GUINN 1907
The rich ranchos of southern California.
In 1843 Michael White was granted one league of land at the mouth of the Cajon Pass called Rancho Muscupiabe. At a point overlooking the trails leading into and away from the canyon he was expected to thwart the raiders and horse thieves that were plaguing the Southern California ranchos. In theory, it was a good plan but in practice, it did not work so well.
From the piedmont between Devil and Cable canyons, Miguel Blanco could keep an eye out for the horse thieves entering the Cajon.
He built his home of logs and earth and constructed corrals for his stock. However, the location between Cable and Devil Canyon only served as a closer and more convenient target for the Indian thieves. His family was with him, but after six weeks until it became too dangerous. He left after nine months without any livestock and in debt.
The Old Spanish Trail went down this slope to behind Miguel Blanco’s rough-hewn homestead. Indians would watch from this forest for Miguel to leave and they would slip down and steal everything that could be stolen.
Miguel sold his property, however, Miguel had misread the grant, letting the rancho go for much less than it was worth. The land described on the grant was roughly 5 times larger than Miguel thought. Blanco brought a suit but lost.
Muscupiabe Rancho
As the late 1840s and 1850s rolled by wagon roads were being developed in the canyon minimizing the effectiveness of the maze of box canyons being used to cover the escape of desperadoes on horseback. With California becoming a state frontiersmen such as Beckwourth and Peg Leg Smith would not steal from fellow Americans. Horse-thieving under U.S. law had become a crime where before it was just stealing horses from Mexicans. That was only serious if caught in the act. Americans would never extradite them. For the most part, that was the end of the horse-stealing raids.
Out in the open country—desert, forest, or plain—you’ll sometimes spot a coyote trotting with a black-feathered shadow gliding above or hopping behind. That shadow is usually a raven; believe it or not, those two critters have a working relationship. It’s not friendship or rivalry—more like a loose alliance between two clever survivors who know how to get by in a harsh world.
The raven is sharp as a tack. One of the most intelligent birds out there, it’s always watching, always thinking. It knows that a coyote’s nose is one of the best tools for sniffing out a meal. So it tags along. The coyote does the dirty work—flushing out prey, unearthing carcasses, chasing rabbits—and the raven swoops in for its share once the chase ends. Sometimes it even helps the coyote out, flying ahead and acting excited when it spots something promising. There’s evidence that coyotes pick up on this behavior and follow the raven’s lead. They’ve learned to pay attention.
For the coyote, it’s a pretty good deal, too. It might not be able to see as far as a raven can from the air, but it knows that if a raven’s hanging around, something must be going on. Ravens don’t waste energy for nothing. If they’re diving, croaking, and making a scene, there’s usually food nearby. A clever coyote watches that behavior and follows its feathered guide straight to the prize.
It’s the kind of relationship that’s been going on quietly for generations—no contract, no handshake, just two species reading each other’s cues. It brings to mind those old Native American stories where the coyote and the raven are both tricksters: wily, unpredictable, and always looking for the next angle. In the real world, the desert happens to be their stage.
But let’s not pretend it’s all rosy. These guys are not buddies. They tolerate each other because it works. And when it stops working—say, if food is scarce or one gets too bold—things can get tense. Coyotes will chase ravens off if they feel annoyed or cheated. And on the flip side, ravens are scavengers at heart. If a young coyote meets an unfortunate end, a raven won’t hesitate to peck at the remains. Nature isn’t sentimental.
Furthermore, if a coyote stumbles upon a dead raven, you can bet it’ll at least give it a sniff. Coyotes aren’t picky. They’ll chew on roadkill, fruit, old hamburger wrappers, and yes—if legend (and plenty of firsthand accounts) holds—even an old boot. So a raven carcass? That’s fair game. They might not go out of their way to chase down a healthy raven, but if one’s lying sick, twitching, and eyes rolled back, a coyote will pick through the clump a bit.
Ultimately, the relationship between the coyote and the raven is a perfect example of how survival shapes behavior. These two animals don’t need to like each other—they need to pay attention. It’s all about reading the land, knowing your neighbors, and taking chances when they come. They may come from different worlds—one with wings, the other with paws—but they’ve carved out a quiet understanding. And in the wild, that can mean the difference between a good day and an empty belly.
The Nüümü (Paiute people) live in the Owens Valley, using sophisticated irrigation systems to grow native plants. They also engage in seasonal hunting and gathering throughout the region.
Joseph R. Walker, a scout and explorer leading a detachment of Bonneville’s Expedition, is credited as the first known non-Native American to travel through Owens Valley.
His route takes him along the eastern slope of the Sierra Nevada, likely crossing the valley while seeking a pass into California.
Walker’s expedition opened early paths for later settlers and explorers.
The valley was originally home to the Paiute people, who practiced irrigation to cultivate crops along the riverbanks. In the 19th century, American and English fur trappers and mountain men were among the first non-indigenous individuals to explore the area. The discovery of silver and lead deposits in the nearby Cerro Gordo Mines during the late 1800s led to a mining boom, attracting settlers and leading to the establishment of communities like Keeler.
Owens Valley Indian War
Tensions between settlers and the indigenous Paiute people escalated into the Owens Valley Indian War in the early 1860s. Conflicts over land and resources resulted in violent confrontations, leading to significant casualties on both sides. In March 1862, settlers attacked a Paiute camp in the Alabama Hills, resulting in the deaths of eleven Paiutes and the destruction of their food supplies. Subsequent engagements saw the involvement of military forces and further loss of life.
Water Diversion and the Owens Valley Water Wars
In the early 20th century, Los Angeles sought to secure water resources to support its growing population. The city constructed the Los Angeles Aqueduct, completed in 1913, to divert water from the Owens River to Los Angeles. This diversion had devastating effects on Owens Valley’s agriculture and led to the drying up of Owens Lake. Local farmers and residents opposed the project, leading to acts of sabotage and legal battles known as the Owens Valley Water Wars. Despite their efforts, Los Angeles maintained control over the water resources, leading to long-term economic and environmental consequences for the valley.
Manzanar Internment Camp
During World War II, the U.S. government established the Manzanar War Relocation Center in Owens Valley. From 1942 to 1945, over 10,000 Japanese Americans were forcibly relocated and incarcerated at Manzanar as part of the internment program. The harsh conditions and unjust treatment of these individuals remain a poignant chapter in American history.
Saline Valley Salt Tram
An engineering feat of the early 20th century, the Saline Valley Salt Tram was constructed between 1911 and 1913 to transport salt from the Saline Valley over the Inyo Mountains into Owens Valley. Covering a distance of 13.4 miles with steep inclines, it operated intermittently until 1935 and stands as a testament to the industrial endeavors of the era.
The history of Owens Valley reflects a tapestry of cultural heritage, resource conflicts, and resilience, offering valuable insights into the complexities of development and conservation in the American West.
Here is a look at what the Mojave is famous for, with pioneer trails and human history front and center:
Native Peoples Long before wagon wheels, the Mojave was home to Native tribes like the Mojave, Chemehuevi, Southern Paiute, and Serrano. These communities knew the springs, passes, and seasonal rhythms like the back of their hand, and they left trails, trade routes, rock art, and village sites throughout the region. Their knowledge of water and survival shaped later explorers’ routes.
Pioneer Trails
Old Spanish Trail: This historic trade route linked New Mexico to California, winding through the Mojave. Traders, herders, and explorers used it to move livestock and goods—often braving vast dry stretches and rugged terrain.
Mojave Road (aka Government Road): Originally a Native footpath, it became a vital wagon route in the 1800s, linking the Colorado River to Southern California. Army outposts like Fort Mojave and Camp Cady were built along it to protect travelers.
Salt Lake Wagon Road and Bradshaw Trail: These overland trails helped connect remote mining districts and settlements, pushing westward expansion through incredibly harsh country.
Butterfield Overland Mail Route: This short-lived but famous stagecoach line cut through the edge of the Mojave to deliver mail between St. Louis and San Francisco.
Homesteaders, Miners, and Ranchers Once the trails were blazed, the floodgates opened to prospectors, settlers, and ranchers. Boomtowns sprang up around gold, silver, and borax. Think Calico, Tecopa, Kelso, and Ballarat—all born of dreams and dust. Cattlemen like Albert Swarthout carved out rough but sustainable ranches, running cattle from the low desert to summer pastures in the San Bernardino Mountains.
Railroads and Route 66 The Santa Fe, Southern Pacific, and Atlantic & Pacific Railroads stitched the desert into the country’s growing infrastructure. Later, Route 66 brought travelers through towns like Barstow, Needles, and Amboy, adding roadside Americana to the desert’s legacy.
Modern Tribes of the Desert Today, the Mojave is home to desert dwellers of all stripes—scientists, artists, loners, and communities like the Mojave Indian Tribe, who still live near the Colorado River. It also draws off-grid homesteaders and folks seeking freedom in wide open country.
Endurance and Ingenuity Whether you’re talking about ancient foot trails, covered wagons crossing dry washes, or early aviators launching into the unknown, the Mojave has always demanded toughness and adaptability. It’s a place that doesn’t hand out easy victories—but the stories it holds are worth every blister and rattlesnake dodge.
The controversy over John Brown’s toll road through Cajon Pass in the mid-19th century revolved around money, fairness, and public access—a classic tension in frontier development.
Two wagons at the summit. Mormon Rocks and the San Gabriel Mountains in the distance
1. Brown’s Toll Road and Franchise Rights In 1861, San Bernardino County granted John Brown Sr. and his partners a franchise to build a toll road through Cajon Pass, a vital route connecting San Bernardino Valley to the Mojave Desert and beyond. They improved the existing wagon trail—grading it, clearing rock, and making it more passable for wagons—and charged tolls to those using it.
2. Public Frustration While the improvements were appreciated, some settlers and freighters grumbled about the tolls. The road served as a major conduit for travel and trade; paying a toll on what many viewed as a natural thoroughfare didn’t sit well with everyone. The sentiment grew that Brown was profiting off a public necessity.
3. Competing Routes and Free Road Advocates As traffic increased, alternate routes began to be explored, especially by those who wanted to avoid tolls. There were also pushes from the community and local government to establish a public road that would be toll-free. Some even attempted to create alternate trails that bypassed the toll gates, fueling the controversy.
4. Political Wrangling Brown’s toll franchise became entangled in local politics, with supporters arguing it encouraged development and opponents seeing it as a private monopoly over a public passage. This debate sometimes reached county supervisors, and there were calls to revoke or revise the franchise.
5. Toll Road Decline Eventually, as public roads improved and more options became available, the toll road’s importance faded. It’s unclear exactly when tolls stopped, but free passage eventually became the norm, and the road was absorbed into the public road system.
In short, the controversy was over the balance between private investment and public access, a theme repeated throughout Western expansion. John Brown wasn’t alone—toll roads were common in the 1800s—but he was one of the more talked-about due to its location and importance.
The wind howled across the dunes, a relentless force sweeping through the Mojave. Sand lifted in great plumes, twisting and spiraling like ghostly tendrils before vanishing into the storm. The dunes, usually shifting in slow, steady ripples, now churned violently under the desert sky.
Beneath the sand’s surface, life waited.
Deep in a burrow just under the dune crest, a lizard lay still, its body pressed into the cool, shifting grains. Its long, fringed toes, perfect for running atop loose sand, were now curled close. It had felt the first gusts of wind hours ago and knew better than to stay above ground. The sandstorm could last minutes or hours—there was no way to tell. It blinked once, listening to the distant hum of wind rattling through the dunes. Here, under the surface, it was safe.
Not far away, nestled in a shallow depression among the roots of a creosote bush, a rat twitched its nose, sensing the air. The burrow was snug, lined with bits of dry grass and desert fluff, a perfect refuge from the storm. It had spent the night collecting seeds, stuffing them into its cheek pouches before returning home just as the first gusts began. Now, all it could do was wait. The storm was nothing new—it had survived countless tempests before. But still, the sound of sand scouring the landscape was a reminder of the desert’s power.
A kit fox, curled in its den, lay in a nearby hollow where two dunes met. Its large ears twitched, sensing the wind’s force above. It had retreated early, sensing the storm’s approach in how the sky had turned a pale, eerie yellow. Hunting would have to wait. The fox licked a grain of sand from its nose and closed its eyes, trusting that when the wind died, the night would bring fresh tracks—signs of prey emerging from their hiding places.
Gary Nafis – CaliforniaHerps.com
Out in the open, a sidewinder lay half-buried in the sand, using its unique body shape to anchor itself against the shifting dunes. Unlike the mammals and lizards, it didn’t have a deep burrow, but it had a trick of its own—pressing against the sand and keeping its eyes barely above the surface, it could ride out the storm without being carried away. The wind whipped past, but the snake remained patient as ever.
Above, a raven battled the gusts, its wings beating against the swirling dust. It wasn’t trapped like the others—it had been caught mid-flight when the storm struck. With a sharp, knowing caw, it adjusted its course and aimed for shelter—an outcrop of rocks on the dune’s edge. There, in the lee of the wind, it could wait, its black feathers blending with the shadows, beak under its wing as if it were a villain.
The storm raged on, the dunes shifting grain by grain, reshaping the land as they had for thousands of years. But the creatures of the desert were no strangers to its fury. They had learned to listen, to watch, and to wait.
And when the storm passed, as all storms did, they would emerge once more, leaving only faint tracks in the freshly sculpted sand.
Tecopa Hot Springs is a natural wonder in the Mojave Desert, where underground forces heat groundwater and bring it to the surface. This small desert town in Inyo County, California, has long been a retreat for those seeking mineral-rich hot water’s relaxing and therapeutic effects. But why is the water hot, and what geological processes make these springs possible? The answer lies deep beneath the surface, where a combination of geothermal activity, faulting, and groundwater circulation work together to create this desert oasis.
The heat of Tecopa Hot Springs originates from the Earth’s natural geothermal gradient, which refers to how temperature increases with depth. In most places, the Earth’s temperature rises at 25 to 30 degrees Celsius per kilometer. However, heat from the Earth’s interior reaches the surface more efficiently in regions where the Earth’s crust is thinner, such as the Basin and Range Province surrounding Tecopa. These conditions allow groundwater that seeps deep underground to become significantly warmer than at the surface.
Another key factor in Tecopa’s hot springs is faulting. Faults crisscross the region, fractures in the Earth’s crust where movement occurs. These faults act as pathways, allowing surface water to trickle downward, sometimes traveling thousands of feet below the surface. As the water moves deeper, it encounters hot rock formations, absorbing heat before being pushed back up through fractures in the rock. This process, known as hydrothermal circulation, explains why the water at Tecopa emerges at high temperatures.
While no active volcanoes exist in Tecopa today, past volcanic activity in the region also heats the groundwater. Ancient magma chambers, which once fueled eruptions and left behind hot rock masses deep underground, continue to radiate heat, warming water as it percolates downward—the mineral content of the water results from the interaction between the groundwater and the surrounding rock formations.
The Amargosa River system, though mostly underground, further contributes to the presence of hot springs. This river follows fault lines and helps recharge groundwater, maintaining a steady flow of water that moves through the region’s complex network of fractures and underground reservoirs. Over time, this slow and steady process has kept the Tecopa Hot Springs active, providing a natural source of hot water even in the arid desert environment.
The springs at Tecopa are part of a more extensive geothermal system in the Mojave Desert, where similar processes create hot springs and hydrothermal features in other areas. The combination of thin crust, tectonic activity, deep groundwater flow, and remnants of ancient volcanic heat makes Tecopa one of the most accessible geothermal spots in the region. Visitors who soak in the warm waters may not see the underground forces at work, but they are experiencing a process that has shaped the desert landscape for countless years.
Summary
Tecopa Hot Springs is a natural geothermal oasis in the Mojave Desert, where underground heat warms groundwater, bringing it to the surface. The springs result from a thin crust, active faulting, and remnants of past volcanic heat. Water seeps deep underground absorbs heat and rises through fractures. This steady hydrothermal process has sustained the springs for centuries, creating a rare desert retreat with mineral-rich, naturally heated water.
The Brown-Parker Auto Company Garage in Goldfield, Nevada, is a historic structure dating back to the early 20th century, reflecting the town’s mining boom era. It was originally established by Munro Brown and Orlo Parker, becoming one of Nevada’s first Ford dealerships.
In 1917, Brown sold his share to Parker when he left to serve in World War I. The original building was destroyed in a fire in 1923 but was rebuilt in 1924. It continued to operate as an auto garage until 1989. Today, it is a notable stop on the Goldfield Historical Walking Tour, highlighting over 190 historical sites throughout the town. The garage is a reminder of Goldfield’s former prominence and the essential role that automobile services played in supporting the remote mining community.
Barrel cacti are tough desert plants that have some pretty interesting survival tricks. They come in different types, but a couple of things are true for all of them. First, the taller ones tend to lean toward the south. Second, despite what you might see in movies, you should never try to drink water from them if you’re stuck in the desert.
The reason barrel cacti tilt south is all about the sun. For most of the year, the sun is more toward the southern part of the sky. The side of the cactus that faces the sun gets blasted with heat all day, which slows its growth compared to the shadier side. Over time, this uneven growth makes the cactus lean south. Some people even call them “compass cacti” because of this. While this might seem like a handy way to figure out directions, it’s not always reliable. Wind, terrain, and other factors can also influence the way a cactus grows, so it’s not a foolproof method for finding your way.
Barrel cactus at Piute Creek, Mojave National Preserve
Another common myth is that you can drink the liquid inside a barrel cactus if you’re dying of thirst. In reality, that’s a terrible idea. First off, these cacti are covered in sharp spines and have a tough outer layer, so getting inside one is no easy task. The effort it takes to cut one open would make you sweat more, which is the last thing you want in a survival situation.
Even if you do manage to get to the liquid inside, drinking it is likely to make things worse. The juice of a barrel cactus isn’t clean water—it’s filled with bitter chemicals that can make you sick. Most people who drink it end up with horrible stomach problems, including nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. Losing fluids this way will dehydrate you even faster, which is the exact opposite of what you need in the desert. Instead of saving your life, drinking from a barrel cactus could actually make your situation more dangerous.
In short, barrel cacti are amazing desert plants, but they’re not a survival tool. Their southward lean is a cool way to see how they adapt to their environment, but it’s not a perfect compass. And no matter how thirsty you are, drinking their juice is nasty. The best way to survive in the desert is to be prepared, carry plenty of water, and know how to find sources of hydration. Appreciating the cactus for what it is—not what Hollywood says it is—can help you stay safe and respect the incredible plants of the desert.
Summary
Barrel cacti are well-adapted desert plants known for their ribbed bodies and spines. A notable trait is their tendency to lean southward, earning them the nickname “compass cactus.” While some believe barrel cacti can provide water in survival situations, this is a dangerous misconception.
Their tough exterior makes extracting liquid difficult, and the fluid inside contains harmful compounds that can cause severe dehydration through nausea and diarrhea. Unlike desert animals that can safely consume plant parts, humans cannot process its toxins. The best survival strategy is proper preparation, carrying enough water, and understanding the limits of natural resources.
Ghost Towns of Death Valley (Images of America) Paperback
$18.00 – TRADE – New
Although the Death Valley area is sparsely populated, it once was home to a good many towns, some of which not only have disappeared from the desert but also from history. Even though the name “Death Valley” itself evokes dark and foreboding images devoid of life, there was a surprising number of towns that did exist in or near the 3.4 million acres that comprise Death Valley National Park. Many had the amenities of larger cities, and some thrived before being deserted and melting back into the desert. The visual record of many of these towns and their occupants is featured in this book.
From the 1870s to the turn of the century, while countless men gambled their fortunes in Death Valley’s mines, many bold women capitalized on the boom-and-bust lifestyle and established saloons and brothels. These lively ladies were clever entrepreneurs and fearless adventurers but also mothers, wives and respected members of their communities. Madam Lola Travis was one of the wealthiest single women in Inyo County in the 1870s. Known as “Diamond Tooth Lil,” Evelyn Hildegard was a poor immigrant girl who became a western legend. Local author and historian Robin Flinchum chronicles the lives of these women and many others who were unafraid to live outside the bounds of polite society and risk everything for a better future in the forbidding Death Valley desert.
From the 1870s to the turn of the century, while countless men gambled their fortunes in Death Valley’s mines, many bold women capitalized on the boom-and-bust lifestyle and established saloons and brothels. These lively ladies were clever entrepreneurs and fearless adventurers but also mothers, wives and respected members of their communities. Madam Lola Travis was one of the wealthiest single women in Inyo County in the 1870s. Known as “Diamond Tooth Lil,” Evelyn Hildegard was a poor immigrant girl who became a western legend. Local author and historian Robin Flinchum chronicles the lives of these women and many others who were unafraid to live outside the bounds of polite society and risk everything for a better future in the forbidding Death Valley desert.
Geology of Death Valley: Landforms, Crustal Extension, Geologic History, Road Guides
$22.33 – TRADE – Used
3rd Edition Available!Get to know Death Valley National Park in a unique way through amazing photographs and detailed descriptions of its world class geology. New to this third edition are many new photographs and updated information from the latest geologic research in Death Valley. Discover where to go in the park to see specific results of geologic activity. Geologists and non-geologists alike will be impressed by the incredible variety of geologic features and the fascinating history behind the landscape we know today as Death Valley.Geology of Death Valley National Park is a must for field trips and for those who want to get the most from their visit to this beautiful park.
Geology of Death Valley: Landforms, Crustal Extension, Geologic History, Road Guides
$26.70 – TRADE – New
3rd Edition Available!Get to know Death Valley National Park in a unique way through amazing photographs and detailed descriptions of its world class geology. New to this third edition are many new photographs and updated information from the latest geologic research in Death Valley. Discover where to go in the park to see specific results of geologic activity. Geologists and non-geologists alike will be impressed by the incredible variety of geologic features and the fascinating history behind the landscape we know today as Death Valley.Geology of Death Valley National Park is a must for field trips and for those who want to get the most from their visit to this beautiful park.
Mysteries in Our National Parks: Valley of Death: A Mystery in Death Valley National Park
$5.63 – TRADE – New
Jack can’t believe what he’s hearing. His sister is being held hostage. Whoever snatched Ashley must have been following the Landons as they explored Death Valley National Park. But what do they want with Leesa? When Jack discovers why Leesa is on the run, he is determined to protect her. But how can he do that and save Ashley, too? One thing he knows for sure, failure is not an option.National Geographic supports K-12 educators with ELA Common Core Resources.Visit www.natgeoed.org/commoncore for more information.
Love and Death in the Valley is a contemporary David and Goliath tale that will inspire and challenge the reader. It is the personal story of Reverend Kevin Annett, the minister who single-handedly exposed the murder and genocide of aboriginal people by the government of Canada and his employer, the United Church of Canada. This book is his own gripping and passionate account of his heroic efforts against insurmountable odds to document hidden crimes among west coast native people after he began a ministry among them in Port Alberni, British Columbia in 1992.Love and Death in the Valley is a book that is ‘large in heart and integrity’ (Ruth Parnell, Nexus magazine, Vol. 9 No. 3:77). It describes how Kevin was fired and then expelled from his church after asking ‘too many questions’ about the deaths of native children in his church’s ‘residential schools’. But the narrative shows how Kevin persevered in the face of a blacklisting and smear campaign against him by both church and state, and brought to light the crimes of genocide that both institutions want to remain ‘hidden from history’.This book is a tale of one man’s victory over lies and corruption. Its clear message is that one person can indeed make a difference.
This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it.This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. To ensure a quality reading experience, this work has been proofread and republished using a format that seamlessly blends the original graphical elements with text in an easy-to-read typeface.We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.
This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it.This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. To ensure a quality reading experience, this work has been proofread and republished using a format that seamlessly blends the original graphical elements with text in an easy-to-read typeface.We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.
from: Little Water – Many Indians Disaster at the Colorado — by Charles W. Baley, 2002
. . . After dinner, while making preparations to get underway, it was discovered that six oxen were missing. Several men were sent back to look for them. After tracking the missing animals for some distance, the searchers came upon four carcasses. Two of the carcasses had all the meat cut away while the other two were partially butchered. A short distance farther, the other two oxen were found. They were freshly killed and still warm, the Indians apparently scared off by their pursuers before they could strip the meat from the animals. Due to approaching darkness and the possibility of an ambush, the pursuit was called off.
During this phase of the journey, the wagon train was doing much of its traveling at night, owing to the great daytime heat of the desert and the long distances between water holes. At regular intervals, during the night they would stop for a short rest. At one of these rest stops, eleven-year-old Ellen Baley, a daughter of Gillum and Permelia Baley, fell asleep and failed to awaken when the wagon train moved on. Somehow, she was not missed until the train traveled some distance. The poor girl awoke to find herself alone in the middle of a vast hostile desert. Filled with fright, she began running to catch up with the wagon train, but in her confusion, she took off in the opposite direction. When she was discovered missing, her father and older brother, George immediately rode back to where they had stopped. To their horror, she was not there! Captured by the Indians must have been their conclusion! Nevertheless, they continued their search by calling out the little girl’s name at the top of their voices as they rode back. Their efforts were soon rewarded when, far off in the distance, came a faint cry, “Papa, Papa.” Her father immediately answered and kept calling her name until he caught up with her. When reunited with her family and the other members of the wagon train, Ellen had a tale that would be told and retold by family members until the present day.
“IN the spring of 1854, the project of some exciting hostile expedition against a distant tribe was agitated among the Mohaves. It was sometime before any but the ‘Council’ knew of the definite purpose of the expedition. But when their plans had been laid, and all their intentions circulated among the tribe, it proved to be one of war upon the Cochopas, a large tribe seven hundred miles away. The Cochopas were a tribe with whom the Mohaves had never been at peace. According to tradition, this hostility had been kept actively flaming through all past generations. And the Mohaves were relying on equal certainty upon the truth of the traditional prophecy that they were ultimately to subject the Cochopas to their sway or obliterate them. The Mohaves had as yet been successful in every engagement. They were confident of success, and this was all the glory their ambition was capable of grasping. As for any intrinsic merit in the matter of the contest, none was known to exist. About sixty warriors made preparations for a long time to undertake the expedition.
“Bows and arrows and war clubs were prepared in abundance, also stone knives. The war club was made of a very solid wood that grew upon the mountain. It was of a tree that they called Cooachee,’ very hard and heavy, and lost but very little of its weight in the seasoning process:
Olive Oatman
” Great preparations were also made by the squaws, though with much reluctance, as most of them were opposed to the expedition, as they had been also in the past to kindred ones. Those of them who had husbands and brothers enlisted in the expedition, tried every expedient in their power to dissuade them from it. They accused them of folly and a mere lust of war and prayed them not thus to expose their own lives and the lives of their dependent ones. It was reported that since the last attack upon them, the Cochopees had strengthened themselves with numerous and powerful allies, by uniting several surrounding tribes with themselves for purposes of war. This was pleaded by these interested women against the present purpose, as they feared that this distant tribe would be now able to avenge the past injury, besides beating the Mohaves in this projected engagement. But go they would, and on the day of their departure there was a convocation of nearly the whole tribe, and it was a time of wild, savage excitement and deep mourning.
” I soon learned, though by mere accident, that so far as life was concerned, I had an interest in this expedition equal to that of the most exposed among the warriors. It had been an unvarying custom among them that if any of their numbers should be slain in battle, the lives of prisoners or captives must be sacrificed, therefore, up to the number of the slain, (if that number should be among them,) and that in the most torturing manner. This was not done to appease their gods, for they had none, but was a gift to the spirits of the other spheres. Their only theory about a Supreme Being is that there is a chief of all the Indians who reigns in splendor and pomp and that his reign is one of wisdom and equity, and would last forever. They believed that at the gate of their Elysium a porter was in constant attendance, who received all good, brave Indians, and welcomed them to immense hunting grounds and all manner of sensual pleasures; that if one sought admittance there without a bow and hunting implements, he was to subsist as best he could, for no provision was to be made for him after leaving his tribe. Many were the questions they asked me after they had ascertained what I believed concerning the nature of the heaven of which I spoke, and the employments there. But generally, they would wind up the conversation with ridicule and mockings. When they saw me weep or in trouble, they would sometimes say: ‘Why don’t you look up and call your great God out of the sky, and have him take you up there.’ But under all this, I could plainly see that their questions were not wholly insincere. They frequently marveled, and occasionally one would say: ‘You whites are a singular people; I should like to know what you will be when a great many moons have gone by?’ Sometimes they would say as did the Apaches, that we must be fools for believing that heaven was above the sky; that if it were so the people would drop down. One of the squaws said tauntingly to me: ‘ When you go to your heaven you had better take a strong piece of bark and tie yourself up, or you will be coming down among us again.’ After the soldiers had departed they told me plainly that my life must pay for the first one that might be slain during this contest.
“I had but a little before learned that we were not much further from the white settlements than when among the Apaches, and had been fondly hoping that as parties of the tribe occasionally made excursions to the settlements, I might yet make my situation known and obtain relief. But now I was shut up to the alternatives of either making an immediate effort to escape, which would be sure to cost my life if detected or to wait in dreadful suspense the bare probability of none of these soldiers being slain, as the only chance for myself if I remained.
” The report of the strengthening of the Cochopas since their last expedition gave me a reason to fear the worst. Thus for a long time, and just after having reached a bright place (if there can be in such a situation) in my captivity, I was thrown into the gloomiest apprehensions for my life. I could not calculate upon life; I did not.
” For five months not a night did I close my eyes for a troubled sleep, or wake in the morning but last and first were the thoughts of the slender thread upon which my life was hung. The faint prospect in which I had been indulging, that their plans of increasing traffic with the Mexicans and whites might open the doors for my return, was now nearly blasted.
“I had been out one fine day in August several miles gathering roots for the chief’s family, and returning a little before sunset, as I came in sight of the village I saw an Indian at some distance beyond the town descending a hill to the river from the other side. ‘ He was so far away that it was impossible for me to tell whether he was a Yuma or a Mohave. These two tribes were on friendly terms, and frequent * criers or news carriers passed between them. I thought at once of the absent warriors, and of my vital interest in the success or failure of their causeless, barbarous crusade. I soon saw that he was a Mohave, and tremblingly believed that I could mark him as one of the army.
“With trembling and fear I watch his hastened though evidently wearied pace.- He went down into the river and as he rose again upon the bank I recognized him. ‘ He is wearied,’ I said, ‘ and jogs heavily along as though he had become nearly exhausted from long travel. “Why can he be coming in alone?’ Questions of this character played across my mind and were asked aloud by me ere I was aware, each like a pointed javelin lashing and tormenting my fears. ‘Have the rest all perished?’ again I exclaimed; at any rate, the decisive hour has come with me.’
” I stopped; my approach to the village had not been observed. I resolved to wait and seek to cover one desperate effort to escape under the first shades of night. I threw myself flat upon the ground; I looked in every direction; mountain chains were strung around me on every side like bulwarks of adamant, and if trails led through them I knew them not. I partly raised myself up. I saw that Indian turn into a hut on the outskirts of the town. In a few moments, the ‘criers’ were out and bound to the river and to the foothills. Each on his way started others, and soon the news was flying as on telegraphic wires. ^But what news I could but exclaim. I started up and resolved to hasten to our hut and wait in silence for the full returns.
“I could imagine that I saw my doom written in the countenance of every Mohave I met. But each one maintained a surly reserve or turned upon me a sarcastic smile. A crowd was gathering fast, but not one word was let fall for my ear. In total, awful silence I looked, I watched, I guessed, but dared not speak. It seemed that everyone was reading and playing with my agitation. Soon the assemblage was convened, a fire was lit, and ‘Ohitia’ rose up to speak; I listened, and my heart seemed to leap to my mouth as he proceeded to state, in substance, thus: ‘Mohaves have triumphed; five prisoners were taken; all on their way; none of our men killed; they will be in to-morrow !’
” Again one of the blackest clouds that darkened the sky of my Mohave captivity broke, and the sunshine of gladness and gratitude was upon my heart. Tears of gratitude ran freely down my face. I buried my face in my hands and silently thanked God. I sought a place alone, where I might give full vent to my feelings of thanksgiving to my heavenly Father. I saw his goodness, in whose hands are the reins of the wildest battle storm, and thanked him that this expedition, so freighted with anxiety, had issued so mercifully to me.
“The next day four more came in with the captives, and in a few days, all were returned, without even a scar to tell of the danger they had passed. The next day after the coming of the last party, a meeting of the whole tribe was called, and one of the most enthusiastic rejoicing seasons I ever witnessed among them it was. It lasted, indeed, for several days. They danced, sang, shouted; and played their corn-stalk flutes until for very weariness they were compelled to refrain. It was their custom never to eat salted meat for the next moon after the coming of a captive among them. Hence our salt fish were for several days left to an undisturbed repose.
“Among the captives they had stolen from the unoffending Cochopas and brought in with them, was a handsome, fair-complexioned young woman, of about twenty-five years of age. She was as beautiful an Indian woman as I have ever seen; tall, graceful, and ladylike in her appearance. She had fairer, lighter skin than the Mohaves or the other Cochopa captives. But I saw upon her countenance and in her eyes the traces of awful grief. The rest of the captives appeared well and indifferent about themselves.
“This woman called herself ‘Nowereha.’ Her language was as foreign to the Mohaves as the Americans, except to the few soldiers that had been among them. The other captives were girls from twelve to sixteen years old; and while they seemed to wear a ‘ don’t care appearance, this Nowereha was perfectly bowed down with grief. I observed she tasted but little food. She kept up a constant moaning and wailing, except when checked by the threats of her boastful captors. I became very much interested in her and sought to learn the circumstances under which she had been torn from her home. Of her grief, I thought I knew something. She tried to converse with me.
” “With much difficulty, I learned of her what had happened since the going of the Mohave warriors among her tribe, and this fully explained her extreme melancholy. Their town was attacked in the night by the Mohave warriors, and after a short engagement the Cochopas were put to flight; the Mohaves hotly pursued them. Nowereha had a child about two months old; but after running a short distance her husband came up with her, grasped the child, and run on before. This was an act showing humaneness that a Mohave warrior did not possess, for he would have compelled his wife to carry the child, kicking her along before him. She was overtaken and captured.
” For one week Nowereha wandered about the village by day, a perfect image of desperation and despair. At times she seemed insane: she slept but little at night. The thieving, cruel Mohaves who had taken her, and were making merry over her griefs, knew full well the cause of it all. They knew that without provocation they had robbed her of her child, and her child of its mother. They knew the attraction drawing her back to her tribe, and they watched her closely. But no interest or concern did they manifest save to mock and torment her.
“Early one morning it was noised through the village that Nowereha was missing. I had observed her the day before, when the chief’s daughter gave her some corn, to take part in the same, after grinding the rest, to make a cake and hide it in her dress. “When these captives were brought in, they were assigned different places through the valley at which to stop. Search was made to see if she had not sought the abiding place of some of her fellow captives. This caused some delay, which I was glad to see, though I dared not express my true feelings.
” “When it was ascertained that she had probably undertaken to return, every path and every space dividing the immediate trails was searched, to find if possible some trace to guide a band of pursuers. A large number were stationed in different parts of the valley, and the most vigilant watch was kept during the night, while others started in quest of her upon the way they supposed she had taken to go back. When I saw a day and night pass in these fruitless attempts, I began to hope for the safety of the fugitive. I had seen enough of her to know that she was resolved and of unconquerable determination. Some conjectured that she had been betrayed away; others that she had drowned herself, and others that she had taken to the river and swam away. They finally concluded that she had killed herself, and gave up the search, vowing that if she had fled they would yet have her and be avenged.
” Just before night, several days after this, a Yuma Indian came suddenly into camp, driving this Cochopa captive. She was the most distressed-looking being imaginable when she returned. Her hair disheveled, her -a few old clothes torn, (they were woolen clothes,) her eyes swollen, and every feature of her noble countenance distorted.
“‘Criers’ were kept constantly on the way between the Mohaves and Yumas, bearing news from tribe to tribe. These messengers were their news- carriers and sentinels. Frequently two criers were employed, (sometimes more,) one from each tribe. These would have their meeting stations. At these stations, these criers would meet with promptness, and by word of mouth each would deposit his store of news with his fellow expressman, and then each would return, to his own tribe with the news. When the news was important, or was of a warning character, as in the time of war, they would not wait- for the fleet foot of the ‘runner,’ but had their signal fires well understood, which would telegraph the news hundreds of miles in a few hours. One of these Yuma criers, about four days after the disappearance of Nowereha, was coming to his station on the road connecting these two tribes when he spied a woman under a shelf of the rock on the opposite side of the river. He immediately plunged into the stream and went to her. He knew the tribe to which she belonged, and that the Mohaves had been making war upon them. He immediately started back with her to the Mohave village. It was a law to which they punctually lived, to return all fleeing fugitives or captives of a friendly tribe.
” It seemed that she had concealed that portion of the corn meal she did not bake, with a view of undertaking to escape.
” When she went out that night she plunged immediately into the river to prevent them from tracking her. She swam several miles that night, and then hid in a willow wood; thinking that they would be in close pursuit, she resolved to remain there until they should give up hunting for her. Here she remained for nearly two days, and her pursuers were very near her several times. She then started and swam where the river was not too rapid and shallow when she would out and bound over the rocks. In this way, traveling only at night, she had gone near one hundred and thirty miles. She was, as she supposed, safely hidden in a cave, waiting for the return of night, when the Yuma found her.
” On her return, another noisy meeting was called, and they spent the night in one of their victory dances. They would dance around her, shout in her ears, spit in her face, and show their threats of a murderous design, assuring her that they would soon have her where she would give them no more trouble by running away.
” The next morning a post was firmly placed in the ground, and about eight feet from the ground a cross-beam was attached. They then drove large, rough wooden spikes through the palms of poor Nowereha’s hands, and by these they lifted her to the cross and drove the spikes into the soft wood of the beam, extending her hands as far as they could. They then, with pieces of bark stuck with thorns, tied her head firmly back to the upright post, drove spikes through her ankles, and for a time left her in this condition.
“They soon returned and placed me with their Cochopa captives near the sufferer, bid us keep our eyes upon her until she died. This they did, as they afterward said, to exhibit to me what I might expect if they should catch me attempting to escape. They then commenced running around Nowereha in regular circles, hallooing, stamping, and taunting like so many demons, in the wildest and most frenzied manner. After a little while several of them supplied themselves with bows and arrows, and at every circlet would hurl one of these poisoned instruments of death into her quivering flesh. Occasionally she would cry aloud and in the most pitiful manner. This awakened from that mocking, heartless crowd the most deafening yells.
” She hung in this dreadful condition for over two hours ere I was certain she was dead, all the while bleeding and sighing, her body mangled in the most shocking manner. When she would cry aloud they would stuff rags in her mouth, and thus silence her. “When they were quite sure she was dead, and that they could no longer inflict pain upon her, they took her body to a funeral pile and burned it.
“I had before this thought, since I had come to know of the vicinity of the whites, that I would get borne knowledge of the way to their abodes by means of the occasional visits the Mohaves made to them, and make my escape. But this scene discouraged me, however, and each day I found myself, not without hope it is true, but settling down into such contentment as I could with my lot. For the next eighteen months during which I was witness to their conduct, these Mohaves took more care and exercised more forethought in the matter of their food. They did not suffer and seemed to determine not to suffer the return of a season like 1852.
“I saw but little reason to expect anything else than the spending of my years among them, and I had no anxiety that they should be many. I saw around me none but savages, and (dreadful as was the thought) among whom I must spend my days. There were some with whom I had become intimately acquainted, and from whom I had received humane and friendly treatment, exhibiting real kindness. I thought it best now to conciliate the best wishes of all, and by every possible means to avoid all occasions of awakening their displeasure, or enkindling their unrepentant, uncontrollable temper and passions.
” There were some few for whom I began to feel a degree of attachment. Every spot in that valley that had any attraction, or offered a retreat to the sorrowing soul, had become familiar, and upon much of its adjacent scenery, I delighted to gaze. Every day had its monotony of toil, and thus I plodded on. . . .
There are numerous names of features within the story of the Cajon Canyon complex; Mormon Rocks, Lost Lake, Lone Pine Canyon, and more. There is one canyon, however, the most popular variation of the Old Spanish Trail as it entered southern California was known as Coyote Canyon.
Mission San Gabriel
In the early 1840s, Englishman Michael White and William Workman were partners in a store in New Mexico. White sold his part of the business and came west to live on one hundred acres his wife purchased from the Catholic Church. On this property near Mission San Gabriel, Michael White established a home. Indian raids were discouraging, but Mr. White worked on and ultimately succeeded in raising cattle. His herd grew and he looked for range land. Mr. White and two other men made an agreement to help each other raise cattle in the valley northwest of San Bernardino.
The Story of Coyote Canyon
It was near the mouth of the Cajon Canyon where he built his camp. However, the ‘partners’ failed to show up leaving Miguel to his own defense if there were an attack.
Miguel Blanco
One morning Mr. White woke up to find his cattle missing–the culprits most likely were ‘Chaguanosos.’ The Chaguanosos were a band of Indians exiled and cast away from all, the worst of the worst, cast from their own tribes, notorious and deadly in their own right. These men would steal anything and everything and kill anyone that attempted to stop them. These renegades committed many of the raids on the animals of the ranchos. There was Chief Coyote who was known in the area to be cunning, and violent and leading a band of these heartless men.
During the dark of night, the Chief and his thieves drove away over 400 head of Mr. White’s herd. Michael White was alone save for a seventeen-year-old Indian boy. Together, they rode off to attempt to halt the theft. They needed to keep the band of thieves from leaving the Cajon Canyon and entering the Mojave Desert–they had to head them off at the pass.
Crowder (Coyote) Canyon – Initially named ‘Coyote’ canyon, for the horse thief, Chief Coyote who was killed within the narrow canyon walls by protector of the Cajon Pass, Miguel Blanco,
Mr. White and the Indian boy rode up the canyon, circled around, and came in between the outlaws and the top of the pass. The thieves were unaware as they were greedily feasting on a horse they had killed.
Mr. White thought to stampede the herd back down through the narrows trapping the Chaguanosos from escape.
Michael drew the attention of Chief Coyote. The renegade charged him. Michael aimed and fired. The shot knocked the Chief off of his horse. He fell into the brush. Dead. The gunshot startled the cattle and they stampeded over the camp and back down the canyon surprising those in the camp. There was a gunfight. White would fire his gun and one by one the Chaguanosos fell dead in the canyon. The boy reloaded the extra gun and kept Michael White fighting. Several of the renegades escaped in the dust and confusion.
A possible site of Campo de la Puente (Camp on the bridge)
The stolen animals were rounded up and returned to the glen at the mouth of the Cajon canyon.
Calling the canyon ‘Coyote Canyon’ wasn’t in honor of a great chief. It was simply a ravine where a bad guy was killed. That is how the canyon became known as Coyote Canyon.
However, the story doesn’t end there- The Governor of California heard of this heroic episode and found that Mr. White had no land but desired to. So, Michael White became naturalized as Miguel Blanco, a citizen of Mexico, and received a grant for 32,000 acres (50 square miles) of land northwest of the Lugo Rancho San Bernardino. With this land situated on a high point of the bajada that runs the southwestern base of the San Bernardino mountains, he was to guard and defend the southern California ranchos from further raids from horsethieves.
Of course, the story doesn’t really end there, either- This is the beginning of the story of Miguel Blanco and the Rancho Muscupiabe.
birds fly backward climbing into descent calamity, cataclysm, and contrary jumbled, confused, so proud of its ignorance making no sense wind-driven and dark searching for the day without a yesterday in the hollow of time the null
