January 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009 - Dateland, AZ
“I wish I could record this day a happy New Year but it has proven the reverse for us …”
- Guy Keysor, Pvt., Co B, January 1, 1847
We begin our day in the vicinity of where Colonel Cooke's “raft” or “boat” experiment took place - somewhere north of Dateland. The Gila would have been something to see back then; described as having water four feet deep in places and over a hundred yards wide in this section. Today, it is completely dry.
The 1846 journalists soundly criticize Colonel Cooke for his “foolish” attempt to relieve the men and mules of nearly a ton of weight by barging some food and equipment downstream. True, the experiment failed but most people are unaware that back at the Rio Grande River, Cooke selected two Army “pontoon” wagons specifically for this kind of situation...
The Rafting Dilemma
Have you ever gone canoeing? Not particularly easy to steer one, is it? Well, rafts have even less control than canoes and are almost impossible to control in a tight stream with currents throwing you from one side to the other as the river sweeps around bends...
Modern Mapping and Route Planning
The modern government BLM maps indicate the “Historic Trails Corridor” lies down in the river bottoms, but that's not our route. After the rafts left, the journalists say the rest of the Battalion hiked back up onto the Gila's south bank and crossed the upland desert...
The Journey Across the Desert
After punching coordinates for trail parts we can see into our GPS handheld, Denny and Peter hike cross country while I work on some other things today. They aim for the north end of the Mohawk Mountains - a very rugged range about fifteen miles west of Dateland...
Wildlife and Observations
“Saw rabbits, small hawk-like bird, spider sack floating in the air, lots of animal holes, deer prints, cat-type prints.”
So, perhaps it depends upon what one focuses on that determines what one sees...
End of the Day
Back at camp, we start a charcoal fire and roast hot dogs for dinner. You see, the Hensons have an Annual New Year's Day Cookout and we're loath to break our string of this traditional event...
And regarding my quote from Guy Keysor, apparently our day wasn’t depressing like his was. True, we were somewhat somber being separated from family, but I think it was much more somber for them.
Friday, January 2 - Tacna, AZ
It's another “moving day” for us. We package the RV and move it over to Wellton's city park. The City Council has been kind enough to allow us to stay at Butterfield Park through this weekend. More about Wellton later.
After setting up, we backtrack to where Peter and Denny stopped yesterday. Denny follows with the support vehicle while Peter and I pick our way carefully along the north end of the Mohawk Mountain range. The Mohawks are incredibly rough - jagged peaks such as we have not seen at any other range. They are unbelievably rugged with spires and precipitous slopes everywhere.
John Russell Bartlett was Commissioner of the US-Mexico Boundary survey team that traveled this same route in 1857 and he had traveled it before in 1851. He recorded that Cooke's camp was on the east side of the Mohawks and slightly more towards the north end. How did Bartlett know exactly where Cooke had camped a decade earlier? Well, frontiersman Antoine Louroux was Bartlett's guide as well as Cooke's. If you want to read more about Bartlett's experiences, go to:
Read more about Bartlett's experiences
Sandwiched between the range and the Gila River bottoms which come right up to the base of the hills, we soon spot what we think are original trail remnants. Mostly it looks like two-track now, but there are short parts that still look like they should if part of the Emigrant Trail. After the Battalion, the 49-ers, the military and the Butterfield Stage all followed along this route. Being so heavily used, some of the rock has been eroded deeply. Also complicating this section is that some of the rock is much softer. Shales are tilted on edge, so the rain has its way with the strata. It just doesn't hold up very well. There's not much to see.
After we turn the mountain point, we head southwest following the canal. The canal, for the most part, follows the bluff's edge. And it is ironic that after weeks of desert, we find ourselves next to all the water you can imagine. We are bordered by Sonoran Desert landscapes of the mountains on our left, following an irrigation canal full of water and looking across agricultural fields green with crops in the river bottoms to our right.
While hiking along the canal we see a great blue heron, a few ducks, some fish in the canal and of course, our daily hawk. There is a square mile of property bordered on all four sides with tall palm trees at least fifty feet high all. I think it was going to be a sub-division at one time.
In 1847, the men had to cross Mohawk Valley. Nearly five miles wide, the valley also holds a couple sandy washes and a field of sand dunes blown against the mountain ranges' west side. It's similar to, but much smaller than the dune fields we will see in a few more days.
Along here, the trail is gone, either plowed under, built over or eroded away. Still, the journalists say they were staying on the uplands, so we believe being here on the bluffs edge carries us near the 1847 route. We're between mountains ranges and the Gila valley here is quite broad - four to five miles from bluff to bluff.
Sharing the hiking, the three of us crank out fourteen miles and stop just north of Tacna, a small collection of houses and buildings. Not really a town, per se, but a rural crossroad community. We're headed due west towards Antelope Hill which we will reach tomorrow morning.
Arriving back at Wellton's Butterfield Park, we set up one of the 1846 tents for “show and tell.” No sooner do we arrive than an older couple stops by to talk with us for a few minutes. The husband is a descendant and they saw an article about us in the local paper. Finally, we get everything completed for the day, grab some dinner and retire for the night.
Saturday, January 3 - Wellton, AZ
One of our Trek contributors has arrived and will hike with us today. Trace Skeen is a descendant and he is “on fire” with excitement about his Battalion heritage. In fact, Trace is one of those multi-talented people who sings, plays instruments, composes music and probably dances as well, but he didn’t demonstrate that for us. But, I fear I get ahead of the story.
Trace contacted us some time ago and offered to support the Trek by providing our medical first aid supplies. We have enjoyed the blessing of having available all the mole-skin for blisters you can imagine. We have been well supplied with band-aids, peroxide, cold packs and all the basic first aid supplies appropriate for our needs. That was something Trace could do because he works with American Medical Response, a global ambulance service company. We thank them and refer you to their website at:
After Trace arrives and we get introduced, we all pile into the car and drive back to yesterday’s stopping point at Tacna. Again, through most of this area the trail has been obliterated by agriculture and river course changes (think “floods”). But still, the geographic view is much as the Battalion would have experienced it.
Hiking along in the bright, brisk morning air, we proceed west about four miles to Antelope Hill. The original Battalion camped here January 4, 1847. The hill sticks out all by itself – an isolated remnant of sandstone. Trace spots one of the “keyhole” Battalion markers so we stop to take a photo op session.
Noteworthy Events at Antelope Hill
After making camp, a couple of noteworthy events occurred at the hill.
First; Col Cooke was worried about how much food was left, so he ordered an inventory made. Afterwards, some of the men became curious about their personal weight and according to Nathaniel Jones, they “had a weighting frolic.” Jones recorded the following: “I weighed 128; weight when I enlisted,198.”
Of all the journal entries about how bad their march was, how much they had to endure, the reduced rations and all the other vicissitudes they had to face, this quote actually scared me. This man has lost more than one-third of his adult body weight – and he still has the worst part of the journey ahead of him.
Second; We know that members of the Battalion climbed Antelope Hill because some wrote about the scenery while others amused themselves by rolling boulders down the talus slope. Apparently, it made quite a noise as the rocks crashed downhill.
Peter and I decide to reenact the “boulder rolling” event while Trace judiciously decides to stay lower and provide the videography documentation. After climbing a short way up the steep hill, Peter selects a reasonable looking boulder about a foot in diameter and we give it the old “heave-ho.” It makes a great “Clack – Clack – Clack” sound as it bumps into other boulders, working its way down about fifteen feet, then stops. Darn!
Too wimpy, so we look for a rounder candidate and give it another go. This one is MUCH better making nearly fifty feet before sidling up to another boulder that stops its progress. We’re impressed. If we were a little more ambitious, we would climb higher and get a really BIG boulder to roll down upon lesser mortals. HA!
The journalists record there were lots of petroglyphs visible. They still are. At the north end of the hill, there is a set of interpretive panels that help explain the significance of the area – especially regarding its importance to the natives.
If you are interested in an explanation of how the Antelope Hill sandstone was used in making matates for grinding foodstuffs, we refer you to the following article:
Antelope Hill Sandstone Article
We follow another canal until we hit a cattle feed lot – the first we pass in a long time, then turn south and pass Radar Hill. The hill had been “dozed” off many years ago, taking petroglyphs and other native artifacts. Without asking anyone, we suppose a radar was positioned there, probably in support of the Yuma Proving Grounds to our north. Not long after, we have another Sheriff Stop. Seems there has been a suspicious brown Suburban vehicle in the area. Hummm. Could that be us?
Evening Activities
Eventually, we arrive in Wellton (more about it tomorrow), take a short rest, then start working on dinner. Trace is treating us tonight to a steak dinner. Yumm. His two sisters, Pam and Nancy, are coming over from San Diego to let us hear some of the music Trace wrote for his upcoming “Battalion” musical.
Pam and Nancy drive in, bringing all the fixings for dinner which we all enjoy immensely.
We sit around and share stories about our lives and doings, then Pam and Nancy join Trace in singing some of his songs. “The Old Iron Spoon” pokes fun at Doctor Sanderson and is both lively and cute.
“Bring Them Home” is a plaintive piece, symbolizing the prayers of all the women who send their men off to war. Having a son who has served in Kosovo and Iraq, the piece is particularly touching to Denny and I.
“Battalion – the Musical” will be presented at Huntsville, Utah’s Outdoor Theatre on June 26th and 27th, 2009. For more information, go to the website at:
Sunday, January 4 – Wellton, AZ
It was a cold night in 1847. It seems at least one of the tent wagons – perhaps Company B’s – had been abandoned about this time. Azariah Smith relates that he and his father slept “out of doors.” But, Azariah had an advantage – of a sort, since every advantage comes with a disadvantage as well. Somewhere along the way Azariah had obtained a “Buffalo sack” – a sleeping bag made from a buffalo hide. In it, he slept “as warm as a pig.” One is left to wonder how he transported such a heavy item, and I’m here to tell you, buffalo robes/sacks/bags are heavy by any definition.
We’ve been fortunate to have a buffalo hide donated for use during the Trek. I had mentioned “Buffalo Bill” back on November 7, but forgot to explain just who Buffalo Bill is. Paul Lyman of our Board of Directors raises bison and shared a hide so we could use it for some research.
Church for us today is at the Wellton Ward and was a slightly different situation. The local membership is fairly short on numbers, but once the cold weather strikes the northern states, the “Snowbirds” migrate south. Here they are called “Winter Visitors” and constitute a fairly large percentage of the people attending services during the winter. Another interesting fact is that you have to speak loudly to be heard. REALLY LOUD.
The Yuma LDS church leadership requested an evening presentation for the adults. Next Sunday, they’ve scheduled a repeat event for the youth. I’m starting to think about how to condense our experiences into a hour or two. Not an easy task what with all the background plus the photos, having to explain where we are and why this or that site is important. About 150 folks are present and we hang around answering questions afterwards for awhile.
Now, we need to introduce a couple who’ve become entwined in our lives. Jack and Erlene Bracht have been married since just last October. They travel full-time, selling products at craft fairs, flea markets and have a busy mail-order business that they love. Jack is a history buff and has become interested in our Trek after reading about it in the Yuma paper. In fact, Jack has been shadowing us for a couple days now and refers to himself as a “Trek groupie” – in the good sense, I assure you. The Bracht’s are slightly older than middle age and are most gracious and wonderful people. They’ve invited us to have dinner with them tomorrow night, so more about that in the future.
Monday, January 5 – Ligurta, AZ
The Dalton family – Brynne, Mike and their 4 kids arrive early to hike with us today. Little Daisy at only seven months old is officially our youngest participant. They are a delightful family. Of course, the boys are boys and enjoy finding rocks, sticks, bugs and everything else along the way. Hiking and history aren’t quite interesting to them just yet, but hopefully it will be someday and they will remember this experience. Oldest brother Taylor is 10 years old – just about to become a Boy Scout, so I share some thoughts about the importance of Scouting and how my Scouts inspired this Trek.
We are enjoying the sight of vegetation – and it’s EDIBLE vegetation. For the first time in 150 miles we’re passing through irrigated fields. After days of brown sand and rocks, the sight of green, red and purple lettuce varieties gladdens the heart. Denny talks to a property owner and is given permission to “glean the fields.” She snags some lettuce for salads.
In the early afternoon, Jerry (Denny’s dad) returns after spending holiday time with his family in Salt Lake. It also gave him a chance to see his doctor. Grandma DaNece also came along to see us and we all had a happy roadside meeting. This reminded me of when our friends, the Kruger family, stopped by at Council Bluffs to see us; and when our kids and family members stopped by along the trail for quick visits. These experiences helped me understand the joy felt when Battalion met the Mississippi Saints on the prairie and when they finally returned to their families.
And somehow, I’ve lost ANOTHER radio. Dang! It’s hard to keep track of those little beggars.
Our last part of today’s hike takes us northwest to the canal that follows the Butterfield Stage route. As in other places, railroads, power lines and modern roads have mostly obliterated the Immigrant Trail pioneered by the Battalion.
Previously, Jack and Erlene Bracht made arrangements with us for dinner at the Wellton VFW. Jack promised us that they would serve the “Best Hamburgers in the World” (as he talks, Jack can emphasize words just like that). We get back to the trailer in time to “freshen up” somewhat, then head over to the VFW. It’s BUSY! There are at least a hundred “snowbirds” all here to get their Monday night hamburger. Truthfully, it is a very good hamburger.
There are other aspects of the Battalion that need research. How about their diet? What kind of caloric intake did they have on quarter rations? What kind of energy expenditure were they making? We know from many sources that the old mountain men had trouble getting enough fat in their diet. A nice juicy burger tonight tastes really good. The Battalion men write frequently about how famished they are even eating four pounds of meat a day. My suspicion is that they weren’t getting enough fat. Some fat is essential to our dietary health and this burger fits the bill. Thanks, Jack and Earlene.
To close out our day, Jerry moves the trailer over to a park on the east side of Yuma. We’re not expected at the West Wetlands River Park for a couple days but the drive is starting to get long if we don’t move. Yuma has lots of trailer parks to accommodate all the snowbirds and truthfully, the park owners “pack ‘em in.” The lots are small and so are the streets. Pull-throughs are rare. Jerry truly is amazing as a driver. First attempt, in the dark, he slides the RV into a spot so tight I wouldn’t have tried it. For this, and many other reasons, we are SO glad to have Dad back with us.
Tuesday, January 6 – Blaisdell, AZ
Starting our hiking day, we’re paralleling the canal. The Butterfield Stage line road is up against the base of the mountains.
A local truck driver stops and talks with Jerry and Denny for awhile. Marvin pulls up again later and presents us with a batch of tangerines off his tree. In the heat, they are succulent and tasty. Marvin will probably never appreciate how much those tangerines refreshed us and how much we appreciated them.
Denny, our family gardener, stops at a “U-Pick” field. She can barely contain herself, so I’ll let her describe that experience in “the book.”
We round the north point of the Gila Mountains, the first major range east of Yuma as you ascend the Gila River valley. The peaks are much like the Mohawks a few days ago but not quite as sharp. If you want a sample view of how rugged this area is, go to: Sheep Mountain
The canal attracts wildlife. Denny walks to within about 15 feet from a Blue Heron before it takes flight. Two hawks circle us overhead – always a good omen. We don’t see convincing trail today but the contrasts between lack of and abundance of water is a forceful reminder of parables in the Bible, clear and convincing examples of how small things matter.
It’s an easy day and we make good time into the east side of Yuma valley. All day long as we hike we hear strong “booms” from the north where the Yuma Proving Grounds is located. Peter and I decide we’d really like to get to see what’s being tested out there. Munitions of some sort. General Kearny had some mountain howitzers (small cannons). We suspect the stuff being tested is a little more powerful.
In fact, in the evening, Peter and I are standing outside and we see a series of flashes refracting over the northern horizon – in the Proving Grounds. It’s not a single flash; it’s a string of flashes – moving across a distance. We start counting seconds (5 seconds per mile of distance, like lightning) and we determine that whatever is being tested is about fifteen miles away. The shock wave is a long, rolling thunder. We’re treated to three such bombing runs. Our tax dollars at work.
Wednesday, January 7 – Yuma, AZ
Denny and Peter take the hiking responsibilities for the day while I work at the trailer office. With all the upcoming presentations and events we’re to participate with, I need some time to organize myself. So, being largely ignorant of what went on, I defer to Denny’s notes for the day.
Ospreys, Great Blue Herons, White Egrets and other birds are seen. Back in 1847, a pelican was shot and its crop made into a hat for one of the men. Denny notes the wide variety of irrigated crops being raised in the valley and the great industry it is to pack them for market.
At noon, they meet one of Peter’s friends from California, Benton Sealy. Benton is a former military pilot, so he and Jerry hit it off. The hiking crew goes off for lunch at a famous Yuma restaurant (while I slave away at the trailer – mutter, mutter) and finish their walk just short of the Colorado River.
Returning to the trailer, we’ve made arrangements to go to a movie – “Valkyrie” – our first in months. Being history buffs, we know the outcome before we start, but the details we were ignorant of. The importance of a single individual standing up and taking action regardless of what anyone else may do is a strong message.
Darryl Montgomery, who recently published a monograph on the Battalion route in Yuma County, stops by and we chew over various details. Darryl’s work in the area is a great example of how a local person can use local materials to research and add to the Battalion story. Darryl’s article; “The Mormon Battalion in Present-day Yuma County” may be obtained at: “The Mormon Battalion in Present-day Yuma County”.
Darryl and I interpret the campsite dates somewhat differently – by one day. This is probably a function of whether you think the journalist is writing in the morning about the prior day or writing at the end of the day to describe how his current day went. It’s not a serious issue and I look forward to further discussions, research and discoveries to help clarify these points. Darryl is quite the gentleman and he’s doing a great service for the Battalion.
In fact, Darryl’s “Yuma County” article is similar to the Santa Fe Trail county map we noted back in Kansas’s Marion County (August 25 blog post). A little longer, and it has photographs, but something that could easily be produced and distributed in nearly every county along the route. Each county has a “Visitors Bureau”, Chamber of Commerce, tourism board, Historical Society or similar group that functions to share the local history. It wouldn’t cost much and could help spur local interest in the Battalion.
Friday, January 9 - Yuma, AZ
We begin our morning before sunrise as the city parks crew finished preparations for the memorial service. The “Army of the West” – the local Yuma Battalion commemorative group – shows up and we get the chairs and all the other stuff ready. There are breakfast burritos – not those “fast food” types. These are locally made, authentic Amerixican breakfast burros. Yum.
At 9 AM there are about 75 folks that show for the commemoration service. We speak some and share our thoughts on being here - finally - at the Colorado River crossing. One main thought keeps coming to me: Just three weeks left to San Diego.
And yet, the Battalion was about to commence a march through the most inhospitable area they had to face. Almost no water. Temperature extremes. Food rations almost completely gone. The draft animals were giving out. Many tents have been abandoned. They are almost at their limit – but not quite. The next week would take them there – to the edge. And quite honestly, the prospect scares me.
Peter, Mark, Denny and I – as well as the Army of the West reenactors are able to interact with the local folks. Many stop to talk about the tents, the equipment, the guns and our experiences. It’s a fun morning.
In the late afternoon, Peter, Mark and I say goodbye to Denny and Jerry, then drive into California, west of Caliexco. Here, we’re to meet and hike with some Scouts. It’s an annual event for the Imperial Council to hike about fifteen miles along the Immigrant Trail. It’s a thirty year tradition commemorating the Battalion’s passage. The Scouts earn a historic trails award and learn a lot of lessons.
We start soon after dark. Our instructions: “Hike towards the white glow on the horizon – not the yellow glow.” And off we go with the thirty plus hikers into the desert. It’s an interesting experience. For Mark and I, our Scoutmaster brains take over and at first we worry about the apparent lack of safety factors. After awhile, we calm down and start enjoying the experience, trying to learn the Battalion lessons we came here for. And, I should mention, this is not a criticism of the event organizers. They have a great safety record to show for their work.
We’re in full Battalion regalia tonight for this hike; white belts, pack, blanket, clothing, canteen, musket. Only one thing – the Scouts won’t let us carry our muskets. The REALLY want to carry the guns, so we let them. Most trade off, but one young man carries a musket the full ten miles during our night walk. The packs get progressively heavier, more uncomfortable, irritating our shoulders and backs.
Eventually, we reach the fire, get some hot chocolate and bed down in the sand with our bags and blankets. It’s a cold, bright night with the full moon getting into my eyes every time I roll over.