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    G A Z I N E

    MAY,1947

    < ^

    25 CENTS

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    OUT OF WART/ME

    THE THINGS THAT MAKE ORDINARY OILSBREAK DOWN AFTERI,OOO MILES OR.

    SO ARE ACIDITY, SLUDGING AND OX I-DATION. DURING THE WAR/ UNION OILSCIENTISTS DEVELOPED SPECIAL C O M -POUNDS FOR THE ARM ED FORCESTO OVERCOME THESE WEAK- " '

    NESSES. THESE COM POU NDS ( HAVE BEEN INCLUDED IN NEW I k

    TRITON MOTOR OI L. V

    , WHATOO YOU M4N-

    wmm

    NEW TRITON CONTAINS ASPECIALDETERMENT COMPOUN D THA TCLEANS YOUR ENGINE AS YOUDRIVE.. LOOSENED OIRT IS HELDSUSPENDED BY THIS COMPOUNDSO IT CANT" H ARM YOUR ENGINE.IN OLDER ENGINES THIS MAYCAUSE THE OIL TO DARKEN BUTIT DOESH'T MEAN THE OILSHOULD BE CHANGED.

    WHAT ABOUT

    NEW TRITON WORKS EQUALLYWELL IN OLD CARS OR NEW .BU T NEW CAR OWNERSWILL ESPECIALLY BENEFITBY USING IT. SINCETRITON CLEANS' AS i rLUBRICATES/ NEWMOTORS' STAY FAR.CLEANER.

    WHAT DO PEOPLE WHO USE/T TH/NK? SALES ARE

    BOOMING. THOUSANDS' OFPEOPLE HAVE TESTED NEW TRITON

    AND FOUND THEY CAN DRIVE FORMON THS WITHOUT AN OIL DRAININ COMPLETE SAFETY-AND SET

    BETTER ENGINE LUBRICATIONTHAN EVER.'

    CHANGE TO TRITOW THIS WEEKAT ANY UNION OIL STAT ION -

    ADD OIL AS N EED ED-BU T

    CHANGE ONLY ZVMESA YEAR/

    T H E D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E

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    DESERT CALENDAR

    May 1Pioneer centennial celebration,honoring living Utah pioneers, Taber-nacle, Salt Lake City, Utah.

    May 1Green corn dance, annual fiesta,San Felipe Pueblo,New Mexico.

    May 1-4Junior Navajo and Hopi artshow, sponsored by Museum of

    Northern Arizona,Flagstaff, Arizona.May 1-15Annual exhibition, studentsU. S. Indian school, Museumof NewMexico, Santa Fe, New Mexico.

    May 2-3 Regional high school musicfestival, Price, Utah.

    May 3Pioneer May day, TwentyninePalms, California.

    May 3 Green corn dance, ceremonialraces, Cochiti and Taos pueblos,NewMexico.

    May 3-4Sierra club, Desert Peakssec-tion, climb of New York butte, Inyorange, opposite Lone Pine, California.

    May 3-4Ramona pageant, Ramonabowl, Hemet, California.

    May 3-4Sierra club hike up Blackmountain, San Jacinto mountains.

    May 3-4Sierra club visitto Trona andSearles lake as guests of Searles LakeGe m and Mineral society. CampsiteatValley Wells.

    May 3-25Annual Desertand MountainWildflower show, sponsoredby JulianWoman's club, Julian, California.

    May 4 Verde Valley pioneer picnic.Camp Verde, Arizona.

    May 4Opening of exhibition of NewMexico color prints, traveling exhibi-tion of Museum of New Mexico, atLas Vegas, New Mexico.

    May 4-11Music week, SantaFe, NewMexico.

    May 5-7Cinco de Mayo celebrationNogales, Arizona and Nogales, So-nora, Mexico.

    May 5-31"Message of the Ages,"pageant of Church of Jesus Christ ofLatter-day Saints, Tabernacle, SaltLake City, Utah.

    May 7-10B oulder CityMay festival,Boulder City, Nevada.

    May 12-13Fiesta de la Pesca, Guay-mas, Sonora, Mexico.

    May 15-18 Helldorado , rodeos,pa-rades, pageants, Las Vegas, Nevada.

    May 16Parade and pageant, "TheDesert Blossomed as the Rose," Og-den municipal stadium, Ogden, Utah.

    May 16-31Exhibition, workof JamesHumatewa, Indian artist,and Yuca-

    tan photographsof Laura Gilpin,Mu-seum of New Mexico, Santa Fe, NewMexico.

    May 17-18 Sierra club, Desert Peakssection, climb of Telescope peak,Panamint mountains.

    May 18State pistol meet, P hoenix ,Arizona.

    May 24Arizona trout season opens.May 28-June 1Western Zone trap-

    shooting carnival, Salt Lake CityUtah.

    May 30-June 1Thirtieth annual Beau-mont, Cherry Valley Cherry festival,street dance, barbecue, parade, Beau-mont, California.

    May 30-June 5A lbuquerque Marketweek, Albuquerque,New Mexico.

    May 30-Sept. 20Exposition, state fairgrounds, Salt Lake City, Utah.MayUtah state drama festival, Salt

    Lake City, Ogden, Provo.

    Vo l u m e 10 M AY, 1947 N u m b e r 7

    COVER

    CALENDAR

    PHOTOGRAPHY

    PERSONALITY

    DESERT QUIZ

    HUMOR

    NATURE

    HISTORY

    INDIAN LORE

    LOST TREASURE

    CONTEST

    EXPLORATION

    POETRY

    FIELD TRIP

    WILDFLOWERS

    MINING

    LETTERS

    N E W S

    LAPIDARY

    HOBBY

    C O M M E N T

    BOOKS

    YUCCA. Photographby Josef Muench, SantaBar-bara, California.

    May events on the desert 3

    Prize winners in March contest 4

    Star-dust Hunter

    By JOHN HILTON5

    A test of your desert knowledge 8

    Hard Rock Shortyof Death Valley 8

    'Little Old Man of the Sands 'By RICHARDL. CASSELL 9

    Mormon Crossingat Hole-in-the-RockBy CHARLES KELLY 10

    Flint Singer Returnsto the UnderworldBy RICHARDVAN VALKENBURGH . . . 15

    Lost Citiesof the DesertBy ARTHUR WOODWARD 18

    Prize cover picture contest 20

    D ay in Grapevine CanyonBy RANDALL HENDERSON 21

    Afterglow, an d other poems 24

    Operat ion RockhoundBy HAROLDO. WEIGHT 25

    Forecast for May 28

    Current news briefs 30

    Comment from Desert readers 31

    Here an d There on the Desert 33

    Amateur Gem Cutter, by LELANDE QUICK . . 38

    G e m s an d Minerals, editedby Arthur L. Eaton . 39

    Just Between You and Me, by the Editor . . . 46

    Current reviewsof Southwest books 47

    The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Press, Inc., 636 State Street,El Centro , California. Entered as second class matte r October 11, 1937, at the pos t office atEl Centro, California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title reg istere d No. 358865 in U. S.Paten t Office, and contents copyrighted 1947 by the Desert P ress , Inc. Permission to reproducecontents must be secured from the editor in writing.

    RANDALL HENDERSON, Editor . BESS STACY, Business Manager.HAROLD and LUCILE WEIGHT, Associate Editors.

    Unsolicited manuscripts and photographs submitted cannot be returned or acknowledgedunless full return postage is enclosed. Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility for damageor loss of manuscripts or photographs although due care will be exercised. Subscribers shouldsend notice of change of address by the first of the month preceding issue. If address is un-certain by that date, notify circulation department to hold copies.

    SUBSCRIPTION RATESOne Year . . . $3.00 Two years . . . $5.00

    Canadian subscriptions 25c extra, foreign 50c extra .Subscriptions to Army personn el ou tside U.S.A. must be mailed in conformity with

    P.O.D. Order No. 19687.

    Address correspondence to Desert Magazine, 636 State Street , El Centro, California.

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    LAZYz w ...

    C O V E R C O N TDesert Magazine's a n n u a l

    cover contestwhich producesmany of the beautiful cover pic-tures used from month to monthis scheduled for May. Allphotographers, both amateurand professional, are invited tosend in their best 9x12 verticalprints for this cover event. Clos-ing date is May 20. First prize$15.00. Second prize $10.00. Foreach non-winning picture ac-cepted for publication $5.00.

    H I K E R. . .First prize winning picture in the Desert Magazine's

    March photographic contest under the subject of "Recre-ation" was this print taken by Walter H. Koch of SaltLake City. The San Juan is one of Norman Nevills' boatsand the scene is the Colorado river near the Crossing ofthe Fath ers. Taken at 1/25 seco nd, f. 16.

    The photograph below was taken in the Devil'sPlayground near Baker, California. The photographer,Don Ollis of Santa Barbara, California, was awardedsecond prize for this picture made at 10:00 a. m. with aclear sky, Verichrome film, 1/25 second at f.22. Thecam era w as a postcard size Eastman3A.

    / .* $ "

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    Dr. Harvey Nininger believes that meteoritesre widely scattered over the earth's surface

    waiting to be found by folks who know a celes-ial rock when they see one. For many years,hrough lectures and m a g a z i n e s and pamphletse has been urging people to "keep your eyespen" for meteoritesand telling how they ma ye identified. As a result, he has acquired onef the largest personal collections in the world.

    Recently he has opened his own museum nearMeteor Crater in northern Arizona where visitorsmay see and learn about the "star dust" whichhas been pelting the earth for millions of years.This story about Dr. Nininger begins manyyears ago when he was a teacher of geology ina little Kansas college.

    By JOHN HILTON

    fy OME weeks ago, during a trip intoj northern Mexico, I was told that a

    large chunk of natural iron was be-ing used by one of therancheros as an anvilin his blacksmith shop. After further in-quiries I visited the ranch, and there Ifound what I suspecteda meteorite. Forme, this discovery ended a long search thatbegan on the campus of a small Kansascollege when I was very young.

    That day, long ago, I was down on myhands and knees watching the traffic on ahill of ants when the professor of biologystopped and stood over me for a moment.It was Dr. Harvey Nininger, who was toinfluence my entire life, and who eventu-ally became one of the outstanding author-ities on meteorites.

    His interest began to play a part in mylife when he loaned me a reading glass andtold me something about the habits of ants.

    A little later he took time from his busy dayto show and explain to me various itemsof general science in the college museum.Everything thrilled me, from the stuffedbirds to the collection of rocks. From thatday to this my interest has extended toevery branch of the natural sciences.

    During the more than thirty years whichhave elapsed since our first meeting, Dr.Nininger has become a specialist. He prob-ably knows more about meteorites thanany other living person.

    I have kept contact with him all theseyears, and when I saw the meteor-anvil inMexico I knew my friend would be inter-ested in it. I bought the 269-pound chunkof iron at a figure which would cover thecost of several much better anvils.

    On my return to California I wrote to

    Dr. N ininger with one of the m any meteorites in his famous collection.

    the doctor, telling him I had discovered anew meteorite fall, since there were noneof record in that part of Mexico.

    His answer was jubilant, but he warnedme not to be too sure that my specimenwas from a new and unrecorded fall. Hisrecords (he has bales of them) indicatedthere probably was one missing piece froma fall of meteorites discovered in 1896 atArispe, Sonora, almost 200 miles from theplace where I had gotten the "anvil." Itseemed unlikely under the circumstancesthat a piece of celestial iron would havewandered 200 miles from the point of itsimpact with the earth but "finger-printing" would settle the point.

    In using the term finger-printing, I re-fer to the process by which meteorites maybe classified and identified. This is themethod: I sawed off a small corner abouttwo inches in diameter, ground it down ona lapidary wheel to eliminate the marksof the hacksaw, then buffed it to a highpolish. The next step was to apply a dilutesolution of nitric acid to the silvery surface.Slowly, like the development of a photo-graphic print, sharp geometric lines beganto appear.

    Dr. Nininger had furnished a specimenof meteorite from the Arispe fall for com-parison. As the acid began to etch a design

    in our newly-found meteorite we watchedwith eager interest to see how nearly thepattern would resemble the specimen fromthe Nininger laboratory. It took only aminute and ahalf. Dr. Nininger had beenright. The width of the bands and the gen-eral pattern of the two slabs were so nearlyalike as to remove all doubt. This was themissing meteorite from the Arispe fall.Somehow, it had wandered 200 miles overmountains and desert from its original lo-cation to serve as an anvil for a Mexicanranchero.

    A few days later I arrived at Dr. Ninin-ger's American Meteorite museum, locatedon Highway 66 near Winslow, Arizona.The museum is on a hill overlooking Me-teor crater where at some prehistoric timehad fallen the largest celestial visitor everknown to have left its mark on the NorthAmerican continent. In the car with mewas the 269-pound meteoriteto be de-livered to a man to whom I am greatly indebt for the interest he took in a small boymany years ago. Dr. Nininger had forgot-ten about that incident on the college cam-pusbut it had made too deep an impres-

    sion on me ever to be forgotten.During the intervening years he has as-

    sembled probably the largest collection ofmeteorites in the world. They are now

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    **

    This is Meteor crater in northern Arizona570 jeet deep and 4150 jeet jrom rim to rim.

    housed in a fine flagstone building wherethey are accessible to all who travel thehighway between Flagstaff and Winslow.

    In the completion of this museum Dr.Nininger has attained a goal of many yearsplanning. He is a dreamerbut also apractical manone of the kind whosedreams generally come true.

    As we sat in the museum surrounded bycases of polished and unpolished meteoritesamples and tons of rough pieces too largeto put under glass, I asked a question thathas been in my mind for years. I wantedto know when it was he had decided togive up other scientific pursuits and beginthe study and collection of these oddstones and chunks of iron which occasion-ally hurtle to our earth from unknownouter space at thirty times the speed of arifle bullet.

    "It was exactly at 8:57 p. m. November9, 1923," he replied with that precisionwhich is a part of his normal conversation."I had just stepped outside after a meet-ing at the college with a faculty friendwhen a ball of fire which lit the sky likedaylight streaked overhead and disap-peared in an explosion behind the top of apine tree opposite where I was standing.

    Meteorites had always been interesting tome as scientific curiosities and I had won-dered vaguely if it would be possible tolocate one which was seen to fall at a dis-tance. I had worked out in my mind a pos-sible method of approach to the problem.I checked the time, and without movingmy feet took a pencil and made a mark onthe sidewalk where I stood during the fall.This was the first step in a long and ratherbaffling search."

    Next morning residents of Macpherson,Kansas, were a bit startled at the spectacleof Dr. Nininger and a physics professorwith a surveyor's transit and a notebooktaking a bearing on the top of a pine treefrom the mark left the night before on thesidewalk. The two men weren't secretive

    about their project. They realized that themore folks they could get interested, thebetter it would be.

    Newspaper stories began to appear ask-ing persons who had seen the fall to pleasewrite and state the direction as accuratelyas possible. The resulting mail was soheavy and confusing the physics professorspent one evening reading, and threw uphis hands. Not so Dr. Nininger! Here wasthe place to apply psychology. He must an-alyze all of these letters and try to deter-mine which writers were accurate observ-ers and which just crackpots. This siftingprocess took a long time. Finally he foundthat about a dozen lines drawn from themore plausible accounts converged on anarea in Kiowa county, Kansas.

    But it would take time, a lot of time andsearch to locate a few scattered fragmentsof meteorite with only a vague idea as tothe place of its fall. He could not do thejob alone. He was raising a family on ateacher's salary, and could spare neitherthe time to make the search nor the fundsto have it done. He must have the help offolks who lived in that area.

    He solved the problem by offering togive natural history lectures in the schools

    in Kiowa county, and by securing news-paper publicity. He lectured on bird lifeand other subjects, but always devotedpart of the talk to meteorites and the pos-sibility of finding them in that locality.He carried samples with him to show theschool children what to look for.

    Eventually he developed wide-spreadenthusiasm for the discovery of the "lostmeteorite." There were many false leadsand some disappointments, and it was notuntil some time later that a farmer droppedinto th e new spaper office in Co ld water inComanche county, adjoining Kiowa coun-ty on the south, with an odd-looking rock

    he had picked up in his field.Dr. Nininger arranged another trip.

    Perhaps this would be the real thing. And

    it was! He had acquired his first meteorite,and with it a hobby which was to become acareer.

    For a while he continued his teaching ofgeology in the school, and occasionally hepublished a scientific paper. But he feltthat he was getting into a rut that held butlittle future for him. He talked the matterover with Addie, his wife. She was one ofthe few women in a thousand who are notafraid to change the pattern of their lives,even though it might mean insecurity andhardship for a time. To her goes much ofthe credit for that place Dr. Nininger has

    attained in the world of science today.Two years later Dr. Nininger secured

    a year's leave of absence, and in a house-car he had built the previous summer, thefamily embarked on a great adventure.There were three small children, and thecar was equipped with a built-in crib forthe youngest, just a few months old. Theyhad $19.50 in cash and a tank full of gasand a great deal of hope. They wouldcollect natural history specimens forWard's at Rochester, and give lectures inany school which would give them anauditorium and a share in the admissions,or a fee, no matter how small. Somehowthey would get along, and perhaps add anoccasional meteorite to their collection.

    Many miles of dusty roads and snowand mud rolled under the tires of thehome-made house-car during that firsttrip. But they saw much of the country,made many new friends, and through pur-chase and exchange the collection of me-teorites continued to grow.

    Dr. Nininger held to the theory thatthere are hundreds of meteorites scatteredover the earth's surface, and he constantlyadvised his listeners. "Keep your eyesopen!" He felt that if he could interestenough people, and especially the young-sters, and make known to them how torecognize a meteorite, not only his own

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    ollection but those of the other museumsould increase more rapidly.The first Christmas on the road was aw point in the new career. Schools hado many other programs to be interested natural history lectures. Checks due for

    pecimens that had been forwarded to buy-s were slow coming in. They were almost the point where they lacked money to

    uy postage stamps.They came to a small town and parked

    he car near a pecan grove. The nuts hadeen harvested but there were a few to beleaned, which the workers had missed.ere was something to doand some-

    hing to eat. While the family gatheredecans, Dr. Nininger walked into town toee the school principal about a lecture.he teacher was a pleasant woman and

    nterested in the lectures, but such deci-ions had to be referred to the presidentf the school board. As she described him,he board chairman was a fine gentleman,ut a cautious guardian of the taxpayers'

    money. He was also president of the bank.

    When Nininger arrived at the bank, theresident was talking on the telephone.

    Dr. Nininger planked some specimens ofron and nickel meteorite down on hisesk, and when the president hung up thehone, he picked them up and asked abouthem.

    "You aren't kidding are you?" theanker asked. "Is it really one of thesehings we see fall from the sky? Can yourove it?"

    The answers evidently were very con-

    vincing, for when the interview was end-d the president had arranged for a seriesf lectures, and out of his own pockethad

    bought some specimens for the school sci-ence department.

    That solved the problem of Christmasfor the kiddies. Out of the confidencegained in surmounting such obstacles, theNiningers knew they were going to makea success of this venture into a new worldof activity. At the end of the trip theycounted up their resources. They had paidoff a $300 debt, had a few dollars in sav-ings, were in good health, and had broughtto light two new meteorites which the sci-entific world was eager to learn about.

    As time went on Dr. Nininger spentmore and more of his time studying mete-orites, hunting them, or lecturing aboutthem. Finally in 1930 he resigned his postat the college and a short time later becamea member of the staff of the Colorado mu-seum in Denver.

    The knowledge of meteorites which Dr.Nininger had spread far and wide broughtfar-reaching results. Meteorites began toturn up in many strange places. Childrenfound them in the plowed fields. Theywere discovered in rock walls. One farmerwas using a big one to keep the wind fromblowing the roof off his chicken-coop. Itis no mere accident that Kansas has pro-duced more meteorites than any othersimilar area in the world. Probably thereare just as many in California or Floridabut Dr. Nininger's lectures have not beenheard by as many school children in thesestates.

    In Mexico Dr. Nininger found toolsbeaten from meteorites by the Indians. InNew Mexico he was able to locate seven

    pounds of blackened stony meteoriteswhich, when theyfell, lit the sky brighterthan day, left a cloud of haze several miles

    long in the stratosphere, and were reporteddefinitely to have fallen in four differentstates. Shrewd deductions and a great dealof patience located this fall a feat whichI would say is equivalent to finding aneedle in a hundred haystacks. Tracing thelocation of a meteorite which is knownonly by a flash of light across the sky takesthe patience of Job and the detective skillof a Sherlock Holmes.

    On many of his trips Dr. Niningerpassed and visited the great crater nearWinslow in northern Arizona. This giantshell hole is 4150 feet across from rim torim and 570 feet deep. It occurred to thedoctor that this would be the proper loca-tion for a museum and laboratory special-izing in the study of meteorites. And thatdream also has come true, thanks to hisperseverance and the loyalty of his verypleasant and efficient wife.

    There the motorists who roll alongHighway 66 may see and learn most ofwhat is kno wn ab out the physical proper-ties of meteorites. There are stony oneswhich look like rounded bits of rock butshow specks of nickel-iron when polished.There are iron meteorites with rusty pittedexteriors, and polished surfaces with ge-ometrically etched patterns which make itpossible to distinguish the material of onefall from that of another. Then there arc-stony irons that look like metallic fruitcakes. Others are light in weight andchalky in appearance with a black glassycoatingthe Howardites. Visitors at the

    Dr. and Mrs. Nininger at their American Meteorite museum on U. S. Highway 66overlooking Meteor crater.

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    museum get a short lecture on how to tellmeteorites from terrestrial rocks, and howto make intelligent reports on meteor falls.

    Now that rocket missiles and high-flying planes have stirred the layman's in-terest in the stratosphere, a study of mete-orites, their character, speed and behaviorhas taken on a new importance.

    The location of the museum has many

    advantages for scientific purposes. Itlooks out on a vast sweep of the northernArizona desert far removed from popula-tion centers and geographical obstacles.The White Sands proving grounds whichDr. Nininger frequently visits as an ad-

    visor in connection with such "artificialmeteorites" as rockets, is only 350 milesaway.

    Dr. Nininger envisions the day when afully-equipped and well-staffed laboratoryand observatory will supplement the facili-ties now at the northern Arizona museum.Of course the facilities would include alanding strip and a plane for prompt trips

    to the site of newly reported falls. Thefulfillment of this dream presents nogreater obstacles than Dr. Nininger hasovercome since that day when he and Ad-die with $19.50 and a house-car started outon their great adventure.

    D E S E R T Q U I ZOne of the functions of Desert Magazine is to giveits readers a better acquaintance with the history,geography, minerals, botany, Indian lore and trie

    recreation opportunities in the desert country. And probably no part of the maga-zine contributes more to this end than does the monthly quiz. Some readers ofDesert will have a big advantage over others because they have had better oppor-tunities to travel the desert roads. But all of them can learn something new fromthis page. Ten correct answers is a good tenderfoot score. Those who attain 15 are

    eligible to become honorary members of the fraternity of Desert Rats. And whenyou score 18 you become a Sand Dune Sage. The answers are on page 37.1Which one of the following words is not a synonym of the others

    Arroyo Wash W ad L Escarpment-2Historically, the Jayhawkers are associated with The Apache wars

    Trek across Death Valley Founding of the Mormon church in UtahFirst navigation of the Colorado river

    3Charleston peak is located inNevada California Arizona Utah

    4If you were equipping your car for desert roads where there was likely to beheavy sand, the least important item in your kit would beW ater Jack Tire chains.. Shovel

    5One of the following towns was never the capital of ArizonaPrescott Wickenburg Phoenix Tucson

    6Leader of the first camel caravan across the United States wasLieut. Beale Kit Carson Lieut. Emory Bill Williams

    7Tonto basin is inCalifornia New Mexico Nevada Arizona

    8The mineral most commonly associated with iron in meteorites isCopper Tungsten Gold Nickel

    9Tucson, Arizona, was founded byU. S. Army Spanish padres The Mormons Fur trappers-

    10The Inter-tribal Indian Ceremonial is held annually atAlbuquerque Phoenix Gallup Window Rock

    11Color of the Joshua tree blossom isBlue Lavender Orange Creamy white

    12The Colorado tributary which Powell named the Dirty Devil is now calledFremont river Escalante Virgin San Juan

    13Norman Nevills is An artist at Taos A senator from UtahA national park superinten dent A famous Colorado river boatman

    14On Highway66 near Winslow, Arizona, the motorist crossesThe Gunnison river. The Rio Grande The Little ColoradoThe Bill Williams river

    15Cochise was a famousApache Indian Yuma Navajo Paiute_

    -Ruth, Nevada, is well known forits Famous cavesOpen pit copper mining Prehistoric cliff dwellingsVolcanic crater

    -After mining and processing, quicksilver is shipped inPigs Bags Flasks Kegs

    18According to legend, those who drink of the waters of the Hassayampa riverwill Live to a ripe old age '. Always have good luckNev er again tell the truth Become bald-headed

    19The hardest of the following minerals isChalcedony Calcite crystals Obsidian Topaz

    20To reach Palm Canyon from Palm Springs one travelsNorth South East West

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    H a rd R o c k S h o r tof

    Death

    Valley"Anybody ever get bit by a rattle-

    snake around here?" The questionwas asked by the newest arrival at theInferno Dude ranch.

    Hard Rock Shorty was in a badhumor. He'd taken a job hustlingbaggage at the Inferno to get a grub-stake for his next prospecting trip.The dude who wanted to know aboutthe rattlers had brought 14 pieces ofluggage alongand after prying allthat "hifalutin junk" out of the sta-

    tion wagon and stowing it away inthe cabin Shorty was plumb dis-gusted.

    "Sure there's rattlers here," he ex-claimed, "an' they hate tenderfeet sobad they'll climb the outside of thehouse and come down the chimney toget a bite outa one. "

    The dude turned a little pale."Are they really poisonous?" he

    asked."Hell man, them snakes is full o'

    pizen. Up here they gotta specialkind o' pizen. Makes everything turnwhite. They even leave a white trailwhen they crawl aroun.' "

    "See all that white ground overthere?" and Shorty waved towardDeath Valley's well known salt flats."Snakes did thatjus' crawlin' overthe ground.

    "Anything bit by them rattlersswells up biggern a house. Guess younever heerd about ol' Pegleg Pete.Usta prospect in them hills overthere. One night Pete went out to seta coyote trap an' a snake nipped himin the leg. Happened to be his wood-en leg an' Pete didn't feel it.

    "Fust thing he know'd he wasraisin' right up in the air. Kept ongoin' up while Pete pawed the airwith both arms and his good legtryin' to find somethin' to hang onto.The pizen in that wooden leg wasswellin' it up like a tree trunk andPete was growin' right up in the air.

    "Boys discovered him up therenext mornin' thirty forty feet in theair."

    Shorty started to walk away."But Mr. Hardrock, they didn't

    leave the poor man up there didthey?"

    "Hell no, they finally shot 'imdown to keep im from starvin' todeath."

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    Portrait o\ a Velvet antby the Author.

    Little Old Man of the SandsBy RICHARD L. CASSELL

    T IS called a Velvet ant, but it really isn't an ant at all,t n ' s hairy little creature of the dunes. Scientifically, it isDasymutilla glor/osa, the "glorious one." It closely re-

    sembles the ant and is often confused with that insect, particu-larly those varieties of Velvet ants possessing close-cropped "vel-vet." They range in hue from bright red through auburn andyellow to pure white.

    Actually it is a wasp. The females are wingless, but the maleshave dark wasp wings and strong flight. It is something to seethese furry desert creatures running at a rapid clip over the sand,their scurrying punctuated by abrupt split second halts. Theircourse is remarkably straight and the distance covered by theseinsects is amaz ing.

    Most of the members of the family are guests or parasites inthe nests of other wasps and bees, but aside from that, theirhabits are solitary.

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    Sometimes called the "little old man of the sands," its dis-position is amiable and it is not given to aggressiveness. How-ever, if pinned down with a stick or some object for close scrut-iny, it will be found that creatures thus provoked possess ex-tremely long stingers and their bodies which appear soft andfurry are actually ensheathed in a chitin armor as hard as a nut-shell.

    Most Mexicans and Indians fear the Velvet ant, believing itssting to be fatal. This is not true, but the sting is very painful.It was these people who dubbed this handsome insect "cow-killer" or sometimes "sheep-killer" and they trample it to deathat every opportunity. Actually there is no basis for this fear.

    It is only through high magnification that one can appreciatean insect's beautyor ugliness, as the case may be. In reality,this creature measures only from one-half to three-quarters ofan inch in length.

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    Mormon Crossing atHole-in-the-Rock

    In the winter of 1879-8U a wagon train oiMormon settlers enroute to the San Juanriver to found a new settlement, spentthree months with crude hand tools

    chisel ing a passage way through andover solid rock to cross the Coloradoriver. This is the famous "Hole-in-the-Rock" crossing. Recently Chas.

    Kelly and two companions re-traced the old route an d hereis the story of what they found.

    By CHARLES KELLY

    ESERT travelers who have enteredMonument valley from the northwill remember the little settlement

    of Bluff, Utah, located in a picturesquesetting on the banks of San Juan river. Dueto erosion of soil by floods the town is nowalmost abandoned; but it has the distinc-tion of being the first settlement in SanJuan county. The story of how it came intoexistence is one of the most fascinatingchapters of Mormon pioneer history.

    Bluff can now be reached over a goodroad. But Mormons who settled there in1880 traveled the toughest trail ever at-tempted by wagons anywhere in the W est.Although I recently retraced part of thattrail, it is still difficult to believe that wag-ons ever passed through the place knownas Hole-in-the-Rock. Any sensible manwould agree it couldn't be done.

    Mormons first came to Utah in 1847.By 1879 nearly every valley in the statehad been settled. San Juan county, in the

    southeast corner, was a land of mountains,red cliffs and deep canyons, difficult of ac-cess and apparently worthless. But one dayBrigham Young's scouts brought word ofa spot along San Juan river which mightsupport a new settlement and plans werelaid to occupy it. A number of families inCedar City and Parowan were called uponto pull up stakes and migrate to San Juancounty. Mormon pioneers accepted suchorders cheerfully and without question.

    The site selected was at the mouth ofMontezuma creek on San Juan river. Inorder to reach it the settlers would have tocross Colorado river. But there was noknown crossing between Green River,Utah, and Lee's Ferry, Arizona.

    Charles Hall was sent to scout a roadfrom the new settlement of Escalante.Reaching the Colorado just below themouth of Escalante river, Hall found a nar-row crevice in the canyon wall down whichhe thought it possible to take wagons.Without searching further for the easiercrossing he later discovered at the mouthof Hall creek, he reported back and thecaravan of 80 wagons and 240 people wereordered to begin moving across the des-ert.

    Fifty-Mile mountain extends in an un-broken line of cliffs eastward from thetown of Escalante to Colorado, its totallength being about 65 miles. Along itsnorthern base lies a wide valley, compara-tively level but broken near the river bymany small canyons. Down this valley thewagons began rolling, following thecourse of Harris wash, which is dry exceptat certain places where water comes to thesurface.

    Hole-in-the-Rock. Through this nar-row crevice 80 Mormon wagonspassed down to the Colorado river

    {visible in the center), then madetheir way through the sand stone cliffsbeyond to found the colony at

    Bluff, Utah.

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    * m.

    Slickrock Hill on the old Hole-in-the-Rock trail, about58 miles from Escalante.

    In May of last year Max Krueger, Hor-ace Goodell and myself retraced this oldtrail in a small truck outfitted for camp-ing. The road has been somewhat im-proved for the benefit of cattle and sheepmen, so we had no great difficulty the first40 miles. Over most of that distance wetraveled parallel to the old ruts of pioneerwagons, still plainly visible. At Ten-Milespring we found a good flow of water inthe wash, surrounded by cattle. Continu-ing over a good desert road we reachedTwenty-Mile spring, another seep in thewash. Here Harris wash turns northeast toenter Escalante river, hidden behind redcliffs in the distance. All water beyond thatpoint comes from small seeps beneathsandstone ledges.

    W e passed Thirty-M ile spring without

    seeing it, but cattle indicated the presenceof water nearby. Forty-Mile spring, orWillow Tanks as it is now known, was atiny drip the flow from which was storedin a concrete tank. This was one of theprincipal pioneer camping places, but it isinconceivable that this little stream, nolarger than a pencil, could have furnishedwater for so many people and their stock.Every drop had to be carefully conserved.Our speedometer registered 43 miles fromEscalante.

    In that wide desert country stockmenbuild large wooden boxes at convenient in-tervals, usually near water, in which to

    store grain and other supplies for theircowboys and sheepherders. At 40 mileswe passed Wilson's Box on our right, atthe foot of a trail leading over Fifty-Mile

    mountain. There was another at WillowTanks .

    Continuing east we missed Fifty-Milespring but again saw cattle nearby. At 59miles we reached another box at SodaSprings, a tiny seep of bad water. This boxwas full of grain, saddles and equipment.None are ever locked, since robbing a boxis one quick way to commit suicide. Ac-cording to desert custom, however, anyonein distress is always welcome to take whathe needs.

    At 60 miles we reached Cave spring andthe Rock corral. Near the latter stood a oneroom cabin occupied by a man and boy.

    They showed us a tiny drip barely suffi-cient for two or three persons in a largesandstone cave. The Rock corral was an-other large cave in which the pioneers kept

    Max Krueger a nd Horace Goodell, Kelly's co mpanions, have stopped beside anunmarked grave along the old Mormon trad.

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    ft

    .

    ^ M

    The ruts of the old M ormon trail are still visible, but they are paralleled today by aroad. Fifty-Mile mountain is in the background.

    their stock, a few poles being sufficient toclose the entrance.By this time our road had become ex-

    ceedingly rough, dipping into deep can-yons, sometimes over "slick rock" whereno tracks were visible, and sometimesacross windblown sand where traction wasdifficult. We were within about six milesof the river, but the trail from that pointhad not been traveled recently, so we wereadvised not to attemp t it. W e should h aveheeded that advice; but being so near we

    hesitated to turn back. The truck was new,there were three of us and we had beenlucky up to that pointso we foolishlywent on.

    Perhaps it would be better not to go intodetails of those last six miles. Going downsteep sandy slopes was easy, but gettingback up again was another matter. Can-yons became more frequent and the drysand deeper. At last we could go no far-ther, so decided to leave the truck andwalk.

    Within about a mile we reached the topof the canyon overlooking Colorado river,at that point a high wall pierced by a nar-row crevice. This crevice is the historicHole-in-the-Rock. Standing on the brinkof the descent we looked down an inclineof 45 degrees, choked with boulders of allsizes. The opening seemed scarcely wideenough for a wagon to pass. Could it bepossible this was where the Mormonscrossed?

    Cautiously we started down, and soon

    Rock corral where stock was held while waiting for the road to be finished. Cattlemen inthe area are still using this natural corral.

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    Steps chiseled out of solid rock enabled the horses to keep their footing while thewagons were lowered with the aid of ropes. Willis Jo hnson stands on the trail which

    fo r 1000 feet is as steep as an ord inary stairwa y.

    the Rock corral, some at Fifty-Mile springand some at Forty-Mile. West of the latterplace was a great natural bowl in a redsandstone formation, with a smooth floor,appropriately named the Dance Hall, mostfamous landmark along this trail. Herewomen, children and older men passedlong evenings dancing to forget their dis-comfort and short rations, while youngermen hacked and blasted a road downthrough the Hole. We found old namescut on walls of the Dance Hall, and tracesof many others eroded by wind and rain.

    At last, after nearly three months of themost gruelling labor, the road was com-pleted and wagons began making thetreacherous descent, with locked wheels

    14

    and ropes attached to rear axles. Even withthe utmost care some were wrecked. It isa miracle any reached the bottom intact. Itwas February first before all were takendown and another week before theycrossed the wide Colorado.

    During those three months supplies ranlow and men were worn out with constanthard labor. But the worst going was stillahead. Between the Colorado and Monte-zuma creek lay many miles of the roughestcountry outdoorsslickrock, deep can-yons, and then the Clay hills where wag-

    on wheels clogged with sticky mud. Grasswas scarce and teams grew thin. It was notuntil April 5 that the first wagons reachedwhat is now Bluff on the San Juan river,

    after being nearly six months on the road.When the pioneers saw flat land along theSan Juan there, they refused to go farther.So Bluff became the first Mormon settle-ment in San Juan county, founded becauseof sheer exhaustion.

    Within the next year Charles Hallfound an easier crossing at the mouth ofHall creek, which was used for a year or

    two, after which both crossings were aban-doned for the longer but better road byway of Moab, Monticello and Blandingthe present highway. Pioneer settlers ofBluff found a virgin country well adaptedto grazing and within a few years acquiredmore wealth per capita than any town inthe United States. But overgrazing andconsequent floods soon wiped out thatwealth, leaving the place scarcely morethan a ghost town.

    We did not cross the Colorado at Hole-in-the-Rock. So far as I know the old trailfrom there to Bluff has been retraced butonce since 1880. What we saw at Hole-in-the-Rock was incredible enough. Evenafter seeing the steps carved out of solidrock; even after looking at deep groovesin the wall made by wagon hubs, it is stillalmost impossible to believe that 80 wag-ons passed down that crack in the canyonwall to the Colorado river.

    Trappers along the river had told theMormon pioneers, "It can't be done." Itcouldn'tbut they did it!

    SNOW RUNOFF FORECASTFOR COLORADO RIVER

    Total annual inflow at Lake Mead willbe about 96 per cent of normal accordingto March forecast of United States weatherbureau on water supply outlook of Colo-rado river basin. Low February precipita-tion caused downward trend from normalforecast in January. Flow is now expectedto be 11,000,000 acre-feet. On upperColorado, flow will be slightly below nor-mal in Roaring Fork and slightly abovenormal above Glenwood Springs.

    Gunnison will have total flow about 17per cent below normal, with the Uncom-pahgre down 25 per cent. Dolores will be15 per cent low. Outlook for Green river

    basin is still good, but forecast has beenrevised downward. At Green River, Utah,flow will be 116 per cent of normal.

    There will be a significant shortage ofwater in San Juan basin with less than 50per cent normal flow expected in Los Pinosriver. Maximum precipitation of recordwould be necessary to bring this basin backto near normal.

    Snowfall varied greatly over Coloradobasin in February. Most stations in upperColorado, Gunnison, Yampa and GreenRiver basins showed amounts above aver-age, with Gunnison reporting 189 per centof normal. On the San Juan, Dolores andLittle Colorado, snowfall was extremelylight. Water content of snow was belownormal, although temperatures averagedfour degrees higher than usual.

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    Flint Singer Returnsj

    The First Death. And when Moun tain Lion looked down into the Hadjinah.or Place o\ Em ergence he saw his wife down there. And when his shadow wascast upon the ground beside her the lost wom an looked up andsaid, "You shall alsocome doivn here into the Underworld when you die." And thus for the first time

    our ancestors knew death.

    By RICHARD VAN VALKENBURGH

    Photographs by Mil ton SnowPen sketches by

    Ch arle s Keetsie Shir ley, Nava jo ar t ist

    /yf UST after the frost turned the corn-I stalks to gold the news came over the

    0^ grapevine that the famous old medi-cine man Hathli Beshi, the FlintwaySinger, lay seriously ill in his hogan underRainy mountain in northern New Mexico.A few days later his son Juli rode into myheadquarters at Lybrook station with therequest:

    "Tis bad. Last winter my father's burrojumped when an owl hooted. He wasthrown into the rocks. And all summerChalisani, the medicine man, has sungover him to drive out the demons of painthat are knifing his back. It is his wish thatyou come to our camp as soon as possible."

    Aware that I might be riding into a Na-

    to the UnderworldInto many of the rituals of the Indian tribesmen have crept little varia-

    tions which obviously are the imprint of the white man's civilization. Butnot so when it cam e time for Flint Singer, the a ge d m edicine ma n, to returnto the Underworld. His last request was that he be buried in the manneroi his forefathers. His request w a s carried out to the letterand here is the

    story as told by Richard Van Valkenburgh, who as-sisted with the ceremony.

    That was bad news. For when a Navajomedicine man departs and the sick personis moved to an old hogan or shelter thefamily is reconciled to the worst. For theNavajo have such a fear of the power ofafter-death that should a person die in thefinest hogan it would becomehokai, a"fear place," and never be occupied again.

    The opportunity to talk to Flint Singernever came. He did not regain conscious-ness. Just as the smoky-orange moon ofNavajo autumn began to climb from be-hind the black rims of Rainy mountain theold medicine man passed from this worldinto the new life that all good Navajo be-lieve awaits them.

    Slipping from the dwelling which hadnow become one of the dreaded fear ho-gans I sought a breath of fresh air. In the

    soft yellow light that seemed to creepdown from the rims and mantle the campI spied Juli hunched against a rock. Withhis hands over his face and with tears fur-rowing his brown cheeks he said:

    "Four days ago my father said, 'My son.I have dwelt on this earth the full timegiven the Earth People by the Gods. Eachyear my body has shriveled toward thefinal disintegration that comes to all oldpeople. All I ask is that when the endcomes I be started on my journey to theUnderworld in the manner of my fore-fathers.' "

    In the manner of his forefathers! I hadseen and assisted in a number of Navajoburials. But all of them had been tingedwith White Man's ritual. And nowwasI for the first time in my experience to beallowed to witness the traditional burialrites of the Navajo?

    I walked across the silent camp withJuli. Soon after we entered the main hoganhe informed me that as the eldest son ofthe deceased that it would be his duty toselect the chief and threeyo'oolai, ormourners.

    While awaiting the coming of the othermembers of the family from their nearbyhogans, Juli sat in the shadows with hismother. When they had all hurried in asif in terror of the darkness outside, Julibegan with great deliberation to select

    vajo burial I hesitated for a moment. Butthe Navajo are my friends, and I agreed toleave as soon as my horse could be caughtand saddled. White folks who live closeto the Navajo know that when the shadow

    of death falls over the countryside they areexpected to help.When we left Lybrook the sun had

    dropped behind the scarps of El Huerfano.Only its red afterglow lighted our waydown through the rims toHalitchiitah,theLand Amidst the Colors. And only theeerie whisper of the Black Wind of Nightgreeted us as it prowled through the juni-pers that lay along the trail to the hogansof Flint Singer.

    Inside one of the smaller hogans in thelarge camp we found the old man lying ina coma. By the dim firelight I could seethe dwelling had been stripped of all fur-nishings. And from out of the darknesscame the sobbing voice ofYithbah, the oldman's wife, "After Chalisani left wemoved him to this old hogan."

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    those who would officiate at his father'sburial.

    For chief mourner he namedTulisani,atraditionalist and maternal clansman ofFlint Singer. A younger man calledHashke from the same clan was chosenwhile the other two mourners were fromthe paternal side of the deceased's family.Upon Tulisani would fall the responsi-

    bility of keeping the taboos. He tookcharge imm ediately.Moving to the west wall of the hogan

    he untied his queue and let his thin greyhair scraggle down over his bony shoul-ders. Then he stripped off his clothing un-til only his breechclout remained. Watch-ing closely he waited until the other threemourners had disrobed before he beganto speak in what was almost a chant:

    "Djini. They tell. Death was demandedin the beginning by the Creators. The firsttime that the People knew of this waswhen the wife of Mountain Lion disap-peared from the camps. This was just fourdays after the People came up into thisWorld through Hadjinah, the Place ofEmergence.

    "They started to search for the lostwoman. In the mud they found, her tracks.Following them they soon came to theedge of the Hadjinah. And when Moun-tain Lion looked dow n into the hole he sawhis wife down there combing her hair.When his shadow was cast on the groundbeside her, from out of it ran a mouse.

    "Seeing the shadow the woman looked

    up and spoke, 'You shall also come downhere into the Underworld when you die.'Then the People knew that she had diedand had returned to the land of shadowsfrom whence they came. And thus for thefirst time our ancestors knew there wassuch a thing as death.

    "When the People returned to theircamp they began to worry about death.The more they talked the more confusedthey became. And finally the headmenwere sent to the Creators to find out. Forit was First Man and First Woman whomade all things and gave them the breathof life.

    "They said, 'Children. It is true that wemade you and gave you life. You will al-ways go ahead and make the best of thatgift. You must follow the laws that wehave laid down for you. But still, death isplanned to balance life and from now onyou shall always have it.'

    "Still the People wondered. Possibly

    there was a way to arrange it so that therewould be no old age and death. And whilethey were in council Coyote ran up with ablack stone and threw it in the water say-ing, If this floats there will be no moredeath.' Of course it sank and that is howthe People became convinced there wouldalways be death.

    "Upon learning more of the power ofdeath the Headmen began to make the ta-boos that we Earth People must observe.There are many things that we must do toprotect ourselves against the terrible pow-er. And I shall be watching during thesefour days of mourning to see that nothing

    is done to delay the passage of our kins-man's spirit to the Underworld."Then I was startled asTulisani contin-

    ued, "This White Man whom the Peoplecall Bahawana, the Good One, will assist.For he helped Hathli Besh-ni with foodand clothing in the hard winters. Further-morehis people theBilakana, are alien

    Stripped of all their clothing the mournerscarried the rema ins of Flint Singer fromthe hokai hogan or "fear place" up into the Lan d Am idst the Colors for burial.

    With them they led h is favorite horse which would be sacrificed so that the oldmedicine man might have a mount with ivhich to make his four day journey tothe Land of the Dead in the Underworld.

    and do not seem to be affected by NavajoChindi, or ghosts of the dead."

    Here I noticed that Flint Singer's namehad been spoken and wondered. For I hadhad always believed that the Navajo nevermentioned a dead person's name under anycircumstances. But I learned later fromTu -lisani that "in" or "ni" added to the givenname shifts it to the past tense and makes

    it usable without fear of ghostly reprisal.Then turning to Juli and his mother hecontinued his instructions, "No memberof this family shall partake of food or d rinknot even the babies who nurse, as longas the body shell of the deceased lies un-buried. For after the first death the Peopleate and were sickened."

    When the spirit leaves by "breath goingout" and begins its four day passage to theUnderworld, death comes in and the bodyshell becomes an evil thing and the homeof the Chindi.

    Then speaking to Hashke the ChiefMourner said, "We will soon leave thishogan to prepare Flint Singer for his jour-ney. With the first light of dawn you willleave to select the grave. Find a secret placehigh in th e rocks where no one will be dis-turbed by theChindi or be robbed by theWolf People, or witches."

    Pale streaks of light began to wash outthe darkness in the eastern sky as I fol-lowed Tulisani and the other mourners toreturn to the old hogan in which FlintSinger lay. While the first light of dawnbegan to come down through the smokehole I watched as they prepared the oldman for burial.

    All of the clothing was removed fromthe wasted body. Then it was carefullywashed. Muttering an unintelligibleprayer Tulisani smeared red streaks ofpaint across the jaws. And then the hairwas washed in yucca suds, combed, andtied up in a queue with a new cottonstring.

    To me fell the task of assisting in dress-ing the old man. Somehow, a completeoutfit of new clothing had turned up dur-ing the night. And after these had beengently put on we adorned our old friendwith his fine string of turquoise beads,rings, and an old concha belt that was amuseum piece.

    With Flint Singer now fully dressed inhis best we had our last look at his peace-ful old face as we carefully rolled him upin two trade-blankets. And then asTuli-sani looped both ends with rope and tiedthem with distinctive knots he said softly:

    "By the way these knots are tied, nogood Navajo will ever disturb this bundleonly grave robbers and witches woulddo such a thing. Their punishment ifcaught would not only be the vengeanceof the God s, but also death at the hands ofthe People!"

    Then the mourners worked to seal theeastern doorway with logs. I watched andwondered how we were going to get out.This was quickly answered whenHashke,

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    who had returned by this time, took anxe and started to smash out a hole in theorth wall. When he finished he "killed"r broke the axe handle.

    Soon after taking up a bundle of juniperwigs and starting to sweep away our foot-

    prints "so that the ghosts would not followus" Tulisani suggested that I leave the ho-gan. I don't know what took place after Iemerged through the hole and walkedover to where Juli was holding Flint Sing-er's spirited roan mare.

    While I stood thereHashke and Tuli-ani came out followed by the other two

    mourners who now acted as pall bearers.Walking slowly they ascended a smallknoll in back of the hogan and stopped.Turning their faces toward the dwellinghey stood as if waiting for something.

    Suddenly sparks began to fly out of thesmoke hole. Then tendrils of flame beganto spurt out from the ragged hole in thenorth side. Licking up the resinous pifionlogs they threw a cloud of pitchy black

    smoke into the sky. As it settled over thecamp like a pall the burial party started upthe trail that led to the rocky wastes to thenorth.

    Toiling upward through the rainbow-tinted wastes of crumbling Rainy moun-tain we sighted a reddish crag that rose inragged spires against the milky-blue morn-ing sky. Then struggling up through anarrow fissure with the balking mare weclimbed to the place selected for the burialof Flint Singera small cave.

    With their burden still on their shoul-ders the pall bearers stood like statueswhile Tulisani prepared the grave. Work-ing fast he cleaned out the litter from thefloor and then took a shovel and dug downtwo feet. In this depression he placed up-right flagstones.

    Laying a trade-blanket in the bottom theChief Mourner looked toward the pallbearers. Slowly they moved toward thegrave. Bending, they gently laid the oldmedicine man in his last resting place. Inoted his head was pointing northward

    This is a hokai or "fear hogan" of the Na vajo. Note the logs piled in front of theeastern doorway. This hogan is doubly taboo for itsoccupants were killed by a strokeof lightning. In this instance the remains were left where they lay, for dea th by

    supernatural violence makes the chindi m ore potent than w hen the Indiandies from natural normal causes.

    towards Hadjinah, the Place of Emer-gence.

    Then over Flint Singer we laid two sad-dle blankets. By his head we placed a newStetson, and by his side there was a roll oftanned buckskin. Over allHashke shov-eled earth and stones to come flush withthe surface. Then after "killing" the shov-el the cave was completely sealed with logsand rocks.

    I watched as the roan mare was saddledand bridled with an old silver coveredbridle from which there hung a turquoisestuddednaja or crescent. I was sick at heartand turned my head whenTulisani walkedtowards the horse with a rifle in his hand.

    No Navajo could be persuaded to po se in this picture, for under the cairn of stonesin the right center lies the earthly remains of one of The People.

    9*---

    There was a moment when only therasping of the wind through the crag brokethe silence. Then came the shot! And I didnot look back as I started down the fissure.Tulisani put his hand on my shoulder andsaid gently, "You should not feel bad.With all these fine things you would notwant your friend to travel to the Under-world without them for lack of a horse?"

    Had someone come across the mournersas they returned to camp by another routethey would have thought they were seeingthings. With their naked bodies gleamingin the sunshine they followed taboo andhopped and skipped along the skyline ofthe ridge that slanted back down to thecamp.

    I stayed to watch the mourners purifythemselves of their contact with the deadby washing their bodies. After thisTuli-

    sani allowed the family to breakfast andwe had a light meal of mutton stew andcoffee.

    No t having time to stay for the four daysthat would see the Spirit of Flint Singersafely in the Underworld and the mourn-ing concluded by a ceremonial wailing Iquietly slipped out of the hogan. No good-byes were said. They understoodun-necessary talk and movement during thisperiod is taboo.

    And as I rode up from the lavender sha-dows settling on the Land Amidst the Col-ors and away from the camp in which the

    ruins of the fear hogan still smouldered Irealizedin all my years with the Navajothis had been my most profound experi-encethe death and burial of Flint Singer.

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    d

    r

    '.. r,

    ..IS"*'*

    Coronado started it all. More than400 years ago he brought a gay pro-cession of fortune-hunters into theNew Mexico desert to find the SevenCities of Cibola where the walls wereplated with gold and silver and inlaidwith turquoise. He never found thetreasure, but his successors havebee n at it ever since. And to the Sev enCities have been added many otherlegends of lost cities and hiddenwealth to lure the imaginative menaway from the cities and into the un-explored wilderness country. Andwhy not? It is a healthful pastimeand who can tell? Perhaps in the vastunknown region of the Southwestthere does exist a pot of gold thatawaits discovery by one of the ven-turesome on es.

    Lost Cities of the DesertBy ARTHUR WOODWARD

    Curator of History, Los AngelesMuseum

    Illustrations by John Hansen

    / V N 1839 an old mountaineer namedV Campbell visited the ruins of Gran

    Quivira in New Mexico. Later herelated a fanciful story of digging fortreasure and sinking into an undergroundroom which had polished walls and whichwas decorated with many painted murals.He also related that in the hills nearby hefound a mine shaft and a cave, and in themine he found a crowbar and other imple-ments made of some mysterious blackmetal which he averred was not iron orsteel. Like most of the discoverers of suchplaces he left all of the items where hefound them.

    Campbell also stated that there was abroad, paved avenue approximately one

    hundred feet in width which led directlyeast from Gran Quivira for a distance ofmore than 40 miles.

    In 1853, other treasure-seekers reportedthey had found a huge stone pyramidstanding about five miles west of the Colo-rado river, and about 200 miles above itsmouth. This structure was said to be com-posed of 52 distinct layers of stone, 18inches to three feet in thickness, and it roseinto the air 100 feet. On top was a plat-form 50 feet square.

    Fantastic? Not at all. I have listened tomodern tales equally strange, told by menwho were convinced that the figments oftheir imagination actually existed.

    About 1937 a tall thin man w ith deeplysun-tanned face and a bald head, whom forconvenience I shall call Pete McGonigle,came to my office and related a story of themiraculous discovery of an undergroundcity in the mountains just east of DeathValley, not far from Shoshone.

    "For a number of years," he said, "Ihave been convinced there are a series ofhuge limestone caves in the strata underly-

    ing all of the desert region from DeathValley south and east to the Coloradoriver. Now I know my theory is correct be-

    cause I have found the entrance to the m aincave. I have also found the council cham-ber of the underground city. Not far fromthe entrance to these caverns I found thesespecimens."

    He held out a few fragments of twinedbasketry and some reddish colored potsherds.

    I recognized them as belonging in thatpart of the country and while I discountedhis tale of an underground city and a con-necting chain of caves extending half wayacross the state of California, I felt per-haps he had found a cave with occupa-tional strata. Since we knew that ancientman as well as the prehistoric ground slothhad lived in the California and Nevadadeserts twenty or thirty thousand years ago,there was always a chance that this casemight be the archeological discovery ofthe century. Of course I was interested.

    "Would you be willing to take me tothis cave?" I asked.

    "Of course! That is why I came in to seeyou. I have a windlass and rope alreadyrigged over the opening and I have been

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    own into the mountain for a distance ofbout 100 feet and the opening continuesn to the subterranean river. Then on topf the hill is the council chamber. It is auge room and it is where the old peopleeld their meetings. I am now engaged inlasting the entrance which has beenlocked by a rock fall."

    "Where did you find these specimens?"

    asked."In a small cave not far from the councilhamber," he replied.

    Well, the result was that a day later wewere enroute to Shoshone. The old-timerson the main street eyed us a bit sardonical-y, I thought, as we paused in the town for

    a bite to eat. One or two spoke to Pete andater I heard guffaws of laughter.

    We continued on through the town anda mile or so beyond the place Pete led theway up a rocky hillside. Sure enough therewas a windlass and a roil of stout rope witha bosun's chair at the end of it. Pete tosseda few boards aside and we peered into adark hole.

    "There she is," said Pete proudly."Didn't I tell you? I've been working onthis place for some time. Would you liketo go down and see for yourself?"

    It didn't look much like a place whereeither prehistoric man or even the redhaired sloths would have lived in the mostprimitive days. In the first place the en-trance was almost vertical and it was toonarrow to permit the passage of a largeanimal. In fact it looked like a tightsqueeze for a man.

    "Okay," I said, "I'll go down."

    I took a flashlight, and Pete and a helpergrasped the handles of the windlass. Iseated myself in the bosun's chair andswung off.

    "Y' wanta be careful at one place," Petewarned, "it gets pretty narrow and if youdon't watch out you may take some hideoff your back."

    He called this down to me after I was 10or 15 feet from the surface.

    "Fine time to tell me," I shouted back.Down, down into the black narrow vent

    I went, twisting and turning at the endof the rope. The rope squeaked under thestrain and I glanced nervously at the thickyellow strands, and felt comforted by theirnewness.

    The passage varied in width. Now itwas so narrow my knees and shouldersrubbed the sidewalls, and again I couldflash my light across some eight or ten feetof space to the opposite wall. OccasionallyI kicked out with my feet and fended mybody away from a projecting knob. By thistime I was convinced this was a naturalcrevice through a limestone deposit andthat no man or beast had passed that waybefore Pete McGonigle ventured down.

    When I reached a point about 100 feetbelow the surface my feet touched a smallplatform of wood which Pete had built ona projecting rock. Here I stood and flashedmy torch downward. Only darkness, that

    "He related a fanciful story of digging fortreasure and sinking into an undergroundroom which had po lished ivalls and which w as decorated with many murals."

    impenetrable cave darkness, thick as an in-visible wall, swallowed up the rays of thelight.

    Faintly I heard Pete bellowing instruc-tions.

    "Drop a rock straight down," he said,"you'll hear it splash into the river."

    I obeyed and I heard the stone bounceonce or twice, then splash into an invis-ible body of water. To me it sounded asthough the rock had fallen into a quietpool. The air at this level was hot andstif-ling. There was not the freshness onemight expect if this was an outlet for aseries of caverns. I lighted a match andthere was no wavering of the flame. Theair was dead.

    I tugged on the ropes and began a slow,twisting ascent to the surface."Well," said Pete as I emerged, "did

    you hear the rock plunk into the river?""I heard it strike some water," I an-

    swered truthfully. "But tell me Pete, didyou ever go on down to the river?"

    "Nope. I never went beyond that plat-form. I figured it must be 300, maybe 400feet down there and I never had that muchrope. But the river's there. I've droppedmany a rock into it. Some day I'm goingon down and take a small collapsible can-vas boat with me. Then I'll shove off andI'll bet I come out at the Colorado river.Why, this string of caves runs for miles.Mitchell's cave over in the Providencemountains is a part of this chain. Only henever went far enough down."

    By this time I was beginning to have mydoubts about Pete's veracity. Still, he hadbrought in some basketry and pottery.

    "Now, I'll take you up to the councilchamber," he announced. "It's just a shortpiece up the hill."

    We hiked on up the mountain and as wepassed a small overhanging rock besidethe trail Pete said casually, "That's whereI picked up that basket."

    I was too winded to think of anythingsuitable to say but I was thinking plenty.His ideas of caves were beginning to irkme.

    We paused on the summit of the hill.Pete stamped firmly upon a flat rock.

    There was dull ringing sound.

    "Hear that? It's hollow underneath.That's where the council chamber is, andI'll bet it has a lot of stuff in it."

    "Where's the entrance?" I asked."Well,"' responded Pete, "I'm a work-

    in' on it. I ran out of powder and can't doany more work until I get some."

    "Then you've never been in the councilchamber?"

    "Nope, but I know she's there," he saidassuredly.

    "If you've never been in it how do youknow there is a council chamber?" I de-manded.

    "Why," said Pete, "the machine toldme so."

    I groaned. This was the first time I hadheard anything about a "machine."

    "What kind of a machine?" I asked.

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    "An electric divining box. It tells mewhen I am over a cave, and by movingaround I can determine the dimensions ofit. That's why I know this is one of thecaves that hooks up with the chain thatgoes clear to the Colorado."

    Needless to say, all of my interest in fur-ther exploration of Pete's "council cham-ber" vanished into the crystal clear air. We

    left Shoshone and although Pete has comein now and again to tell me of the progresshe is making, blasting a tunnel through thesolid rock mountain top, he hasn't as yetentered the sacred council chamber.

    There have been others who wanderedinto the museum with equally fantastictales.

    There was the man who said he was aprospector. He told me that in 1918 hefound a buried town a few m iles north andeast of Barstow. He and his partner hadpried up a stone slab and found severalstone lined rooms buried beneath the des-ert floor.

    Like the old mountaineer Campbell,these men swore they found the wallssmooth and painted with Indian "higher-gliphs." They also found three graves andin them were the bones of tall Indians ac-companied by pots and arrowheads, but nogold or silver ornaments.

    When I pressed the old desert rat for afurther description of the rooms he saidthey were connected by arched doorways!I let him ramble but when he said archeddoorways, I knew he was romancing.There were no primitive architects ineither North or South America who werecognizant of the Roman arch!

    The old man offered to guide me to thespot and all he w anted was the motion pic-ture rights to the discovery, in the event th emuseum sent out an expedition to uncoverthe place. I agreed to this and set the datefor our departure into the desert in mycar. I am still waiting to make that trip. Ithas been over ten years since he was in myoffice.

    Another time I was asked by a news-paper reporter to accompany him and aphotographer into the desert beyond Ju-lian in San Diego county to look at a buriedcity.

    I told the pressman that I'd go alongfor the ride but I didn't expect to find aburied city, unless he meant the ghosttown of Banner.

    A few days later we met a rather slendermild-eyed man clad in blue cotton shirt,blue jeans and a pair of knee boots in frontof the old Kenilworth inn at Rarnona. Thisindividual was driving a small pick-uptruck. He led the way and we followed inthe press car.

    That man certainly led us a merry chase.We rambled through Ballena, on upthrough Witch Creek and down into SantaYsabel. I thought we might continue on upthe grade into Julian but our guide swungto the left and we tore on past the white-washed Indian chapel and down the grade

    through Carrizito canyon. Then we pushedacross Warner's ranch and turned east andwent down San Felipe valley. At the junc-tion of the San Felipe-Warner's road withthe Borrego highway we swung sharplyto the right back toward Banner.

    By this time I had convinced my news-paper pal that we were on a wild goosechase and our cunning, madman guide was

    trying to throw off imaginary pursuers.We halted beside a small rocky knollcovered with brush, live oak and quartzoutcrops.

    "You w ouldn't imagine you were stand-ing upon the site of a buried city, wouldyou?" said our guide.

    "No, you wouldn't," I answered truth-fully.

    We rambled over that hill for an hourwhile the man told us all about the wcn-ders of the metropolis that lay buried be-neath our feet. All he wanted was a fewthousand dollars capital to begin excava-

    tions. He also wanted $1000 for exclusivestory rights when the city was laid bare.He showed us the natural rock formationsshattered by centuries of exposure and sol-emnly pointed out ruined staircases, fallenpillars and portions of triumphal arches.

    He was rather vague as to the originalinhabitants. Some learned scientist hadtold him this might be one of the lost cities

    of Mu but the origin was unimportant.The important fact was that the city wasthere just waiting to be dug out. So far asI know it is still there. If any Desert read-er is interested in spending a few thousandpesos, I can lead you right to the spot. Butperhaps that blue-shirted hombre will besitting on top of the hill guarding it witha shotgun. In that event perhaps you canmake a dicker with him. The last we sawof him he was standing at the foot of theknoll, staring rapturously at the quartzoutcrop seeing in it the grandeur that wasRome. Poor chap, he had been out in thesun a bit too long.

    Covet P ictures W anted'.. For D esertMa ny of the beautiful cover pictures which ap pear o n Desert Maga-

    zine are acquired in the annu al cover contest which this yea r is sched -uled for May.

    Entries in the cover contest should be 9x12 inches or largerverticalshots. Photographers should keep in mind that the picture must be socom pose d that the ma sthea d printed across the top of the picture w illnot mar the beauty of the subject. Any desert subject is eligiblescenics, wildlife, personalities (but not girls in bathing suits or othersophisticated prints), rock formations, flowersanything that wouldmake a typical desert cover.

    Strong black and white contrast is desired, and unusual cloud ef-fects often add to the quality of the picture.

    Entries must be received at the Desert Magazine office by May 20.A cash prize of $15.00 will go to the first place winner, $10.00 for sec-ond prize, and $5.00 each for non-winning pictures accepted for pub-lication.

    HERE ARE THE RULES1Prints must be on black and white, 9x12 or larger, printed on

    glossy paper.2All entries must be in the Desert Magazine office by the 20th

    of the contest month.3Prints will be returned only when return postage is enclosed.4Contests are open to both amateur and professional photo-graphers. Desert Magazine requires first publication rights of prize

    winning pictures only.5Time and place of photograph are immaterial except that

    they must be from the desert Southwest.6Judges will be selected from Desert's editorialstaff, and

    awards will be made immediately after the close of the contest eachmonth.

    7Each photograph submitted should be fully labeled as tosubject, time, place. Also as to technical data: shutter speed, hourof day, etc.

    ADDRESS ALL ENTRIES TO PHOTO EDITOR, DESERT MAGAZINE

    TH E

    EL CENTRO, CALIFORNIA

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    Part of the upper oasis in Grapevinecreek a juniper tree in the foreground. These palmsgrew at an elevation of3000 feet.

    27 ,au in tapewne anuonFrom the floor of California's Coachella valley the steep rocky north

    slope of the Santa Rosa mountain range appears quite devoid of life orinterest. Actually, concealed in the recesses of this rugged mountain faceare six scenic canyons where the Washingtonia palm grows in its nativehabitat. Here is the story of the recent exploration of one of these ca nyo ns.

    By RANDALL HENDERSON

    / / / E STARTED our descent ofyy Grapevine canyon far up on the

    north side of Asbestos mountain,which is one of the lesser peaks in theSanta Rosa range of Southern California.

    Grapevine is one of the seven precipit-ous ravines which slash the north slope ofthe Santa Rosas and dump their occasionalstorm waters into Palm Desert cove on thefloor of Coachella valley. Considering theinfrequency of storm floods in this desertregion it must have taken the forces ofNature a million years more or less tochisel seven canyons in so small an area.

    There is running water, and wild palm

    trees are found in six of the seven can-yons. These six, reading from left to righton the map are Deep canyon, Carrizo,Grapevine, Dead Indian, Ebbens and Cat

    creeks. The seventh, Ramon canyon, is drymost of the year. It has no native palms,but someone many years ago planted a datepalm seed in Ramon creek. It grew wellfor a few years, but a long drouth finallysapped its life.

    I had attempted to climb Grapevine tenyears ago, starting at the point where ittakes off as a tributary to Dead Indiancreek. But there were hazardous verticalfalls in the lower end of the gorge and thegoing was very slow. A day's time was notenough to ascend Grapevine to its sourceand return. By midafternoon I wasonly half way up, and so I turned backand entered this canyon in my notebookas an unfinished exploration, to be com-pleted at a future date.

    It was a crisp morning in early January

    this year when I returned to renew my ac-quaintance with this canyon of the manywaterfalls. I would make sure of ampledaylight for the complete journey this timeby making it a one-way trip. My daughter,Evonne Riddell, ferried three of us to theheadwaters of the creek. My companionswere Chuck Riddell and Pat Dennington.We carried an 80-foot rope to scale downover the waterfalls.

    From the orderly date gardens of Coa-chella valley we motored up along the zig-zag route of the Pines-to-Palms highwayto the point where a little side-road ismarked "Shumway ranch" and then fol-lowed a dirt and granite trail through aluxurious growth of Upper Sonoran zoneshrubs and trees to The Tors, the namegiven by Nina Paul Shumway to her love-ly mountain cabin high up on the side ofAsbestos mountain. The Shumways home-steaded this land many years before thePines-to-Palms road was built. Their

    adobe house is so well concealed in itssetting of pinon, juniper and jumbledgranite boulders as to be completely hid-den from view until one drives into the

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    The aged palm on the right wasburned, perhaps by lightning, many years ago, butrecovered and probably will add another50 years to its life span.

    dooryard. From its wide glass windowsone may look down on the checkerboard ofdate and grape and grapefruit plantingsin Coachella valley 16 miles away, and inmidsummer be grateful for the moderatetemperatures of this 4200-foot elevation.

    The Shumways found a tiny spring upon the side of the mountain at the head ofGrapevine creek, and piped the water a

    half mile to their cabin. This spring was tobe the starting point for our trek down thegorge.

    It was 8:20 in the morning when weshouldered our packs and started scramb-ling over the rocks toward the spring. Wetold Evonne to meet us at the Dead Indiancreek bridge on the floor of the desert at3:00 p. m. That was our estimate of thetime it would take to descend the sevenmiles of this crooked creek.

    At its upper end the canyon drops awayrapidly. The pitches were not difficultenough to require a rope, but we lost alti-tude steadily the first mile. Then the can-yon began to level off somewhat. Next tojuniper, the most conspicuous shrubs alongthe way were yucca and nolina. This wastoo early in the season for bloom but thedead flower stalks of the previous seasonwere standing. Some of these yucca flowerstems were more than four inches in di-ameter, and in the larger ones we saw anoccasional woodpecker's hole. This wasthe first time I had ever noted woodpeck-ers using yucca stalks for nests.

    It was 10:55 and we had hiked 2Vimiles and dropped to an elevation of 3100feet when we saw the first wild palm tree,a healthy three-foot Washingtonia grow-ing beside a huge cottonwood. A half milefarther downstream we came to a prettyoasis of palm trees, more than 50 of themgrowing along a lively stream. It was anatural picnic park, and we stopped here

    Pat Dennington and Ch uck Riddell at the top of on e of the dry wa terfalls in Grapevine.In the haze beyond is theCoachella valley2000 feet below the point where they are sitting.

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    for lunch from our knapsacks. Water hadappeared intermittently along the canyonfloor, and the pools in the upper elevationswere covered with thin ice.

    Below this point we found only an oc-casional palm, and the character of thevegetation changed rapidly. Beavertail cac-tus, ephedra, catsclaw and jojoba or goat-nut, gradually replaced juniper, pinon,

    yerba santa, ribbonwood and theRbus

    ovata of the higher elevations. At 3000feet we passed the last pinon, but juniperand Rbus ovata remained with us down tothe 2000-foot level.

    The rock of the upper canyon was gran-itic with considerable feldspar, but lowerdown it became brown schist thickly inlaidwith mica.

    No serious climbing problems devel-oped until we were within a half mile ofthe bottom, where Grapevine empties intothe dry channel of Dead Indian arroyo.Then two vertical falls blocked our way inquick succession. It was necessary either todetour or rope down, and since Chuck andPat had looked forward to their first lessonin rapelling, we uncoiled our rope andwent down by the most direct route.

    Roping down is simple enough andvery safe when the proper technique isused. The method is to double the ropearound a solid rock or tree and descend ina self-manipulated sling, then pull therope through when the last memberreaches the bottom. The only limitations inthis method of descent are the availabilityof belays for anchoring the rope at the top,and the length of the rope. Since it isdoubled for purposes of recovery after thedescent, it must be twice as long as thehighest pitch to be scaled. The first timeover the edge of a cliff in a rope sling is arather critical test for the novice. After helearns to trust his rope, it becomes a thrill-ing sport.

    We roped down over two falls about 30feet in height, and the difficult part of thejourney was over. Below that point wepassed two more palms and a few hundredyards farther arrived in Dead Indianand met Evonne at the bridge just 10 min-utes behind our schedule.

    I don't know why they named it Grape-vine creek. Actually I did not see a wildgrapevine the entire distance. But thename might well apply to the serpentineroute the creek follows in its course downthe mountainside. I am going to suggestto Nina Shumway that she plant somegrape cuttings around her spring. Thatwould be one way to make the canyon fitits name.

    Chuck and I carried m echanical countersto record the palms. The number of treesover three feet in height was 101. Fromthe start at 4325 feet we descended to 1100feet in six hours and 50 minutes of rather

    leisurely hiking. Among the palms were ahalf dozen old-timers perhaps 150 yearsold. Their fronds had been burned, prob-ably by lightning. But the mature younger

    COACHE L L A

    R A N C H O VALLEY

    trees wear the full skirts of trees whichhave been spared for 50 years or more.

    Grapevine is too inaccessible to be wellknown among the scenic canyons of theSouthern California desert. But its isola-tion merely adds to the enjoyment of a daywithin its rugged walls.

    There are those who are apprehensivelest the growing popularity of the desertas a recreation area result in the destructionof much of the natural beauty of the can-yons in this area. Any misgivings I mayhave in this regard are dispelled on such atrek as we made down Grapevine canyon.All over this desert region are canyons noless charming than Grapevine whose iso-

    lation will remain a protective barrieragainst their despoliation. Fortunately,the kind of dunderheads who paint theirnames on rocks and spread tin cans overthe landscape do not go very far into suchwilderness terrain as characterizes thenorth slope of the Santa Rosas.

    Palm Springs has been attracting hun-dreds of thousands of visitors annually formany yearsand yet Grapevine canyon,less than 20 miles away, bears no evidenceof having been traversed previously. I am

    sure that others have followed that rockycourse, just as we did, but they left a cleantrailand you and I are grateful for thatkind of sportsmanship.

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    s^mr ^"0-m-

    *1

    044A

    By Lois ELDER R O YPortland, Maine

    Upon this rocky ledgeSo far above,W e stand together, you and I,The one I love.

    Never shall I forgetThe beauty of this day's end.

    Far below, across the west,Quiet and sereneThe evening clouds have come at last to rest.

    A range of hilltops rise in silhouetteOn either side;And in betweenDown at the desert's magic edge Soft lapping of an ocean tide.Celestial harborGlorified!

    Far outA phantom shipGlides tranquilly;And mystic, dreamy islandsFloat, in shadowed amethystUpon a faintly coral sea.

    Toward the north,Tall forestsBend to ocean's breeze

    Photograph by Nicholas N. Kozloff.

    Upon a coastline's rugged crest;Where, high aboveWith hunter 's dogsThe great Orion stalksIn endless quest.

    And as we return,Reluctant, loathe to goTo say good-byeW e find, reflected in the homeward trail,The magic of the sky.

    DANCE OF THE DUSTIES

    B y H E L E N L. V O G E L

    Coachella Valley, CaliforniaThe little specks of dirt and sandWere lying staid as should the landWhen out of nowhere into nowCame prankish Wind Draft . With a bowHe stirred the sleeping Dusties high,Whirled them, dropped them back to lieFor one short moment, then a whoopAnd Wind Draft cast them in a loop.He whipped them through a whirlpool danceOf dervish turns without a chanceTo cease their dizzy, skipping whirl.He ducked and pushed them to a curlOf devil twisting cyclone, small,It's true, but most fast of them all.Thensuddenly he dropped them downQuite finished with his wish to clown.The little specks of dirt and sandLay staid again as should the land,And out of now back whence he cameOld Wind Draft fled. He has no shame.The poor, small, tired Dusties.

    DESERT NOCTURNEB y J E A N H O G A N D U D L E Y

    Yosemite, CaliforniaAcross the dunes we walk, into the waiting

    desert night,From distant silences a warm and drowsy wind

    now blows.Like darkly-robed priests who chant in weird

    and rhythmic riteThe rustling palm trees sway against a moonlit

    sky that glows.(Against the gleaming radiance of the undulat-

    ing sand,Against the moon's bright halo as she rises full

    and gold.)Like humble-hearted worshippers, or children

    hand in hand.W e pause and feast our eyes on all the rap ture

    they can hold.

    D A W NB y TA N YA S O U T H

    Look you then unto the dawn.And when it rises from the seaOf dark and want and misery,

    Think not then your battle's won.

    But as a soldier then arise,

    And towering o'er your failings dire,With hope of Light and Truth afire,Soar to the skies!

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    Geode hunters swarm o ver diggings as Desert Gem and M ineral society sponsors secondannual field trip to Hau ser beds in B lack hills of Imperial county, California.

    wpetatlon s^ockhound. . .From the Hauser geode beds in Southern California's Chuckawalla

    desert have come some of the most spectacular crystal geodes found inthe Southwestand since the supply is almost inexhaustible for thosewh o are willing to dig for their spec ime ns, this ha s bec om e on e of the mostpopular hunting grounds for collectors. At the invitation of theBlythegem and minera l society a great caravan of motorists recently invadedthis gem areaand here is the story of their day in the field.

    By HAROLD O. WEIGHT

    r HE COYOTE flattened himselfbehind a giant ironwood as car aftercar swept down the army-gradedroad. When the last vehicle had passed, heturned and streaked for his most remotehiding place in the nearby Chuckawallamountains. There is little doubt but thathe thought the army was invading hisdesert again.

    It was an invasion, but the invaderswere looking for rocks, not coyotes. DesertGem and Mineral society, of Blythe, wasconducting its second annual field trip intothe Hauser geode beds of Imperial county,that February morning. I was at the rearof the procession, mapping the route forthose readers of Desert Magazine who

    have not yet found their way into one ofthe most fascinating desert areas of South-ern California. So I saw the greyish-brownfigure as it flashed up the bed of the sandy

    M A Y , 1 9 4 7

    wash. And I did not blame the coyote forrunning, nor would I be surprised if hewere still keeping to the mountain can-yons.

    He had just seen what was undoubtedlythe greatest concentration of motor ve-hicles in that area since Patton's tanks hadplunged across those same wastelandswhere hordes of young Americans in1942-43 were hardened for the bitter roadwhich lay ahead, across North Africa,France, Germany.

    On this February morning, 1947, theroar of 70 motorsjeep, truck and passen-ger carshattered the silence. FromWiley's well to the Palo Verde mountains,great plumes of brownish dust spurt