Gem Trailsin Arizona'sWhitlocks...

The open land holds many re-wards for the weekend explorer.Here is the account of a field tripmade into an eroded range insoutheastern Arizona—where gemstones were collected, and theearly evidences of ancient Indiansand pioneer cattlemen investi-gated.

By FENTON TAYLORPhotographs by the author

Map by Norton Allen

PURPOSE in making theexpedition to southeastern Ari-zona's Whitlock Mountains one

day last February was threefold:Darvil McBride, in whose pickup

we made the trip, was anxious for usto see a crude deeply-buried cementpipe which he felt might have beenlaid down centuries ago by Indian in-habitants of this country;

Rex Lay ton, another expeditionmember, wanted to show us what hecalled "the original Arizona flourmills," a hillside covered with basaltoutcrops containing two score or moreIndian grinding holes; and

We wanted to inspect a promisingcollecting area for rockhounds.

Early morning found us driving easton Highway 70 from Safford, passingthe village of Solomon, the State In-spection Station at Gripe, and climb-ing the rolling foothillls of the Pelon-cillo Mountains at the eastern end ofthe Gila Valley.

The paved road shot an arrow-straight course for the purple outlinesof the mountains over which toweredthe distant pyramid of Ash Peak.

Watching the right side of the road,we found our first turnoff three anda half miles from the junction of High-ways 70 and 666. White posts in thehighway fence framed the cattle guardmarking the ranch road. We rattledover the guard rails and rolled overhills made bright green with evenly-spaced creosote bushes, well-nourishedfrom abundant winter rains.

We sped across the rolling hills and

TOP—Whitlock Cienaga Ranch buildings. Adobe house once had a fort-like second story for protection against Indian raids.

CENTER—Darvil McBride and Rex Layton display some of the sand-stone concretions collected on the west slopes of the Whitlocks.

BOTTOM—Author's children, Edith and Melvin, discover agate andchalcedony specimens in the Whitlock badlands.

n r*T 1 Q K P

rjgKjbt •- TO CLIFTON &**'" 3-M<&i "'. M0RENCI

i fsJi^-..r

AGATE, JASPER,CHALCEDONYPETRIFIED WOOD & BONE,

APACHE TEARS ETC.

Ruins of 0/d :'" -*• *'•= fivS?£">1Vhitlock Ranch V ;... J*i»*'^sf«S>

jounced down into mesquite-clad drawsand washes, until we came to the graybuildings and idle windmill of the 111Ranch, a part of the Ellsworth CattleCompany of Safford.

No one lives at the ranch nowadays.The wooden house, with lean-to onboth sides, presented jagged windowsand sagging screen doors. A few otherbuildings were in complete disrepair,and the big tin-roofed barn was empty.

This ranch was established in thenortheastern end of San Simon Valleyby W. J. Parks in 1896. It encom-passes the area immediately west ofthe Whitlock Mountains, a chain ofhumps and sharp peaks that parallelthe Peloncillo Mountain range, furthereast, for about 40 miles. A spur ofthe Whitlocks—Dry Mountain—jutsits badlands to within a mile of theranch buildings. This was our firstdestination—the gem field.

?; -,(JS

Beyond the cluttered yard we closedthe gate behind us, dropped down theslope, and crossed a wash beyondwhich lay the feeding yards. A fewtawny Brahma and red Hereford steerwatched us as we followed the fainttracks of a road leading toward DryMountain.

Eons ago a lake covered this area,and sedimentary deposits were builtup layer upon layer, entrapping ani-mals and plants. When the water re-ceded, erosion went to work, cuttingthe formations into countless hillocksand knolls. The line of barren hills,showing white, yellow and blue pastelcolors, stretch for miles along theWhitlocks.

The road ruts took us past bedrag-gled mesquite, sage and creosotebushes—their stunted growth a sharpcontrast to the plants we had seen

nearer the highway, betraying a fiercefight for existence in a harsh land.

The road to Dry Mountain affordsfairly smooth going, a trail any sedan,with careful driving, can cover. Be-yond this point the seldom-used roadis rough, sandy and washed-out, call-ing for slow travel even in a pickup.

As we climbed over a rise betweentwo hills, Rex shouted for a stop. Hehad spotted unusual sandstone concre-tions covering a slope. They resembledgroups of golf balls cemented togetherin a lumpy interesting series of designs.

Scouting ahead I found a clay bankin which Nature had carved a theater.A row of clay actors occupied thestage in silent tableau. This caughtthe children's fancy, and for awhilethey stood around it, speculating im-aginatively on the drama in progress.

My search in these hills revealedwidely scattered agate and chalcedonyfloat in a wide assortment of formsand colors. I picked up fortificationagate almost immediately. Then Ifound some nice chalcedony roses,carnelian chalcedony, and one pieceof especially fine fire agate. One agateshowed flecks of green moss, and anodule of red jasper contained thedistinct imprint of a crinoid stalk.

Much of the material in this areais just the thing for tumbling, I de-cided. One cream-colored pebble wasdecorated with a thick sprinkle of bluedots.

Gazing around, I came to the con-clusion that here in the shadow of theWhitlocks was at least 30 square milesof good rock hunting territory.

Since all the material is float, gemcollecting here is much like partici-pating in a carnival fishpond—a per-son will never know for sure what hisnext try might yield.

We drove further south and uncov-ered some petrified wood and bonein the side of a slightly yellowishmound. The bone was porous, andthe wood was white and gray. Ilearned later that one man had un-covered a complete tusk in this area.

After lunch we drove back to High-way 70, and continued east once more.The paved way wound up betweenrounded peaks and buttes. After eightmiles we could look down the valleybetween the Whitlocks and the Pelon-cillos. A sign reading "HackberryRanch—8 Miles," indicated our sec-ond turnoff to the right that day, andsoon we were humming along a well-traveled ranch road.

We dropped into the valley, andcame to the inhabited HackberryRanch, completely encircled by fence.Since the road went through the yard,we had two gates to open and close.

Yellow grass waved across the val-ley and stained the mountain slopes

J 7 I M T

Terry Taylor stands by two pipes which protrude fromthe exposed wash wall.

Robert Layton examines a basalt boulder containingIndian grinding holes.

to add brightness to their deep bluecolor. Mourning doves soared intowhistling flight ahead of our approachdown the entire length of the road.

Captain Whitlock left his name onmany landmarks in this area, as didmany fellow Army officers in the West.His forces pursued a band of cattle-stealing Apaches to the southern endof the valley: In the battle whichensued, the soldiers killed over 40braves, winning a decisive victory.

This action stamped the Captain'sname on Whitlock Mountains, Whit-lock Peak, Whitlock Valley, WhitlockDraw and Whitlock Cienaga.

Our second destination of the daywas the place where the mountainspinch in to form the draw. In a groupof straggly trees at the head of Whit-lock Draw and right next to the cien-aga (Spanish: "marsh" or "swamp"),stand the ruins of the old adobe housemarking the location of the formerWhitlock Cienaga Cattle Ranch.

This ranch was begun in 1861, afew hundred yards from the scene ofthe Army's victory over the Apaches.William Charles located the spring at

the cienaga and founded the ranch.He sold it in 1882 to O. R. Smythe,who stocked the range with Mexicancattle.

Skeletons were still scattered overthe battle site, and during Smythe'sfirst roundup two of his hands collectedthe bleached skulls and adorned thecorral poles with them as a joke.

When riders brought the cattle in,the herd shied and refused to enter.Smythe rode up to ascertain thetrouble, and found himself facing acircle of grinning skulls. After laugh-ing with the boys at the joke, he is-sued orders for the burial of the grislydecorations.

Frank Richardson bought the ranch,and sold it to W. John Parks in 1894.Two years later, Parks gave it to hissons, Jim and John, and moved to thewest side of the Whitlock range toestablish the 111 Ranch.

The Parks boys put down a wellabout two miles east of the ranchhouse, and tapped a water supply sohot that it had to cool before the cattlewere able to drink it. Jim built a damacross the end of Whitlock Valley to

store the water. This reservoir isknown as Parks Lake. In 1954 itoverflowed, sending a head of waterdown Whitlock Draw which cut a deepchannel and uncovered the pipe wehad come to inspect.

We stopped before the decayingadobe ranch house, built by Smythe,which has stoutly withstood the rav-ages of time. Three rooms are on theground floor, but the second story—a fort-like 16-square-foot room linedwith port-holes—has melted away.

The "original flour mills" are lo-cated in the black lava boulders out-cropping along the crown of the longhill immediately behind the house.Patches of hedgehog and prickly pearcactus frequently forced us to detourthrough the creosote bushes as we as-cended the hill. Chips of flint andclear obsidian disclosed ancient work-shop locations, and we also found afew scattered chalcedony roses.

Near the summit we came to theround grinding holes in the dark grayrock. These cavities were still half-full of rain water from recent storms.No pestles were in sight. From one

O C T O B E R , 1958 15

Robert Layton and Melvin Taylor speculate on the drama in progress inthis natural theater complete with actors in tableau.

point I counted over 20 of these mor-tars. An industrious people had occu-pied this area at one time.

Walking along the deep wash in thewhite bottom of Whitlock Draw below,Darvil was on his way to the pipe whenI started down the hill after him. I

crossed the floor of the draw, literallycovered with pottery shards of plainand fancy colors, and joined him andTerry Taylor in the bottom of thewash.

A few steps down the sandy bottomwe came upon a short section of the

C a s h For Desert Photographs...- October on the desert is a pleasant time—summer's heat is past,

-winter's cold lies ahead. And it is an excellent month for picture taking.The desert scenes you record in October—or any month—are wel-comed entries in Desert's photography contest.

Entries for the October contest must be sent to the Desert Magazineoffice. Palm Desert, California, and postmarked not later than October18. Winning prints will appear in the December issue. Pictures whicharrive too late for one contest are held over for the next month. Firstprize is $10; second prize $5. For non-winning pictures accepted forpublication $3 each will be paid.

HERE ARE THE RULESI—Prints must be black and white. 5x7 or larger, on glossy paper.2—Each photograph submitted should be fully labeled as to subject, time and

place. Also technical data: camera, shutter speed, hour of day. etc.3—PRINTS WILL BE RETURNED WHEN RETURN POSTAGE IS ENCLOSED.4—Entries must be in the Desert Magazine office by the 20th of the contest month.5—Contests are open to both amateur and professional photographers. Desert

Magazine requires first publication rights only of prize winning pictures.6—Time and place of photograph are immaterial, except that it must be from the

desert Southwest.7—Judges will be selected from Desert's editorial staff, and awards will be made

immediately after the close of the contest each month.

Address All Entries to Photo Editor

"Desert PALM DESERT. CALIFORNIA

pipe. It was about six inches in diam-eter, with a one-inch hole through itscenter. As we continued on, we foundlengths of the pipe barely uncovered,and we could trace its course for ashort distance before we came to aplace where it had washed out com-pletely.

Who had laid the pipe? Settlers orIndians? We speculated on its prob-able origin.

"It looks to me," said Darvil, "asif a trench had been dug the exactsize of the pipe. The cement, or what-ever they used, could have been pouredinto the trench, and as soon as it setup hard enough, a sharp pointed spearwas pulled through its center to makethe hole. Look how lopsided the holeis in this section."

So fascinated were we that littleattention was paid to the dark cloudsgradually blotting out the western sky.We followed the pipe for half a mileor more, finding one spot where itwas 15 feet below the surface of theground.

William R. Ridgeway of Saffordhas done some research on the pipe.He contacted members of the Parksfamily who had lived in this area foryears. They had no knowledge of thepipe. Chemical analysis revealed noPortland cement in the pipe. It wasmade from a volcanic material, poz-zuolana.

We carried on our exploration withthe enthusiasm of discoverers. Pipefragments are strewn all along the washfloor. We searched and we speculated,but the mystery of the pipe's origin isno nearer solution. Perhaps someonewill come forward with the answer tothis riddle some day.

My attention was caught by a yel-low dust plume rising above the SanSimon flats. The day had been warm,though overcast, and now signs of aquick change of weather were evident.

We hurried to the pickup. Straybreezes began to whistle through thebrush, then the heavy wind hit witha blast of sand and dust. Gray wispsof clouds began to dangle over thehills and to reach for the surroundingpeaks. We secured the tent hood overthe truck bed as the first drops of rainspattered down.

The storm was good to us. It mere-ly sprinkled as we hurried past thesection of road that would be slick ina rain; but as soon as we reached thepavement, the storm pulled out all thestoppers.

We were pleased with the outing.The prospects of a vast collecting areawas a worthwhile reward, and it willbe excuse enough to make many moretrips into the Whitlocks.

16 DESERT MAGAZINE