Tuesday, February 6, 2024

The Cooke's Range, New Mexico

Ocotillo on Massacre Peak in the southern part of the Cooke's Range. 
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Cooke’s Peak rises 2,400 feet above the remote trailhead where seven of us (and three dogs) gathered on a chilly January day for a long-anticipated hike to the top. The route climbs an alluvial fan and turns into OK Canyon where it winds through oak, sotol, and juniper before launching steeply upwards over two saddles to a short third-class summit scramble. We hoisted our daypacks and set off up the trail while the dogs ran around finding old bones and muddy puddles, covering at least twice the distance we did during an already long day.

Cooke's Peak (the pointy one) viewed from Mimbres Valley northwest of the range.

On the trail to Cooke's Peak with the Chihuahuan Desert far below.

The view east from near the summit of Cooke's Peak.

 

The peak dominates the northern end of the Cooke’s Range, one of many obscure “sky islands” rising from the desert basins of Southern New Mexico. Thanks to a perennial spring, it played a disproportionate role in U.S. and Mexican history and the U.S. doctrine of manifest destiny. Military, mail, and passenger routes between the East and California stopped at Cooke’s spring rather than bypassing the mountains because it offered the only reliable water between the Rio Grande and the Mimbres River. 


A lone ocotillo on Massacre Peak in the southern Cooke's Range with the Florida Mountains in the distant background. The easiest  east-west route is between the Floridas and the Cooke's Range, but there isn't any water.

 

Lt. Col. Philip St. George Cooke traveled the route in 1846-47 with a ragtag battalion of Mormon “soldiers” recruited in Iowa to bolster the U.S. military presence in the southwest, much of which was still owned by Mexico, and to diffuse tensions with the Mormons. They welcomed this because it gave them a chance to travel west funded by the military, escaping persecution in Iowa. After prolonged conflict and negotiation with Mexico, the Gadsen Treaty established the international border about where it is today, and the U.S. gained possession of Cooke's route.


Ellen near the summit of Massacre Peak just south of Cooke's Gap and west of the spring. A plaque commemorated the Cooke expedition as well as a group of boy scouts who visited the summit more recently, presumably to install the plaque.

 

Long before Europeans started arguing over ownership, the Mimbres chipped petroglyphs in the hills and canyons of the range. They are often fantastical, though some depict easily recognized rattlesnakes, sheep, bear prints, and yuccas. There are even the outlines of scarlet macaws on boulders in at least two sites. These tropical birds were traded (and maybe bred?) as far north as Chaco Canyon and its outliers and clearly had religious and cultural significance. Their feathers have been found attached to prayer sticks and ceremonial clothing. The Mimbres abandoned the area around 1150 AD, perhaps migrating south into Mexico. Bands of Apaches later established ephemeral camps in and around the Cooke's Range where they hunted and organized raids.


Petroglyphs in the Cooke's Range.

More petroglyphs including a possible macaw and Santa Claus roasting a dead rat over a fire??!!

Grinding holes in sandstone.
 

The Apaches were antagonized by the stream of Europeans threatening their sovereignty. Cooke’s Pass, just west of the spring and sandwiched between steep cliffs and hills for over a mile, was a perfect place to attack travelers, and the Apaches took full advantage. During one well-known attack in July of 1861, Mangas Coloradas and Cochise, two famous Apache leaders, ambushed seven members of the Freeman Thomas Mail Party as they entered the canyon, forcing them up a side canyon to the south where they built rudimentary rock shelters and fought the warriors until their inevitable deaths. According to an account by Jay Sharp, the stripped and mutilated bodies of Thomas and his companions were found two days later by passing freighters who described the scene:

 

The ferocity of the battle, the freighters said, could be measured by the numerous shell casings littering the ground and the bullet marks covering the rocks and trees around the stone barricades.”  

 

Ellen hiking through Cooke's Pass in November and feeling somewhat less terrified than travelers 150 years earlier, despite the 8-mile shadeless round-trip. 

We spent a day trying to find the site of this attack, but aside from a few ambiguous rock shelters, any signs of the battle have been erased by 160 years of weather and scavenging. This and many other attacks led to the construction of Fort Cummings near the spring in 1863 and deployment of military personnel to protect the vital transportation route. Today, all that remains of the fort are a few decaying adobe walls and a barren cemetery. 


Decaying adobe walls at Ft. Cummings, once a busy military outpost positioned to protect travelers from Apache attacks.
 
Lonely graves at the Ft. Cummings cemetery. The military was tasked with collecting human remains that had been left scattered along the route through Cooke's Pass and relocating them to this cemetery. The bones and bodies contributed to the terror travelers felt as they passed through the canyon.

After the Indian Wars, the Cooke’s Range was occupied by miners, goat herders, and ranchers. Abandoned towns dot the foothills today, and old mines are everywhere. To the west, Flourite Ridge is riddled with adits where miners extracted its namesake mineral, used to make steel, especially during WWII. Also during WWII, in the basin to the east, pilots dropped bombs containing small amounts of explosive and a lot of flour to mark the spots where they exploded, helping them evaluate their aim.


A stone house probably used by miners near the north end of Fluorite Ridge.

On the northeast flanks of the range, the once prosperous mining town of Cooks Town (spelled without the “e”) is mostly gone save for remnants of a few buildings. The town was established in 1876 and mostly abandoned by the beginning of WWII but it once had as many as sixteen saloons (and no churches!). Donald Couchman (Couchman 1990), in his comprehensive Master’s thesis on the history of the region, tells a story of intrepid partiers from Cooks Town: 

Many of the community social functions were conducted at the schoolhouse…People would come from as far away as Deming, Lake Valley, Las Cruces, Hatch, Hatchita, and the settlements along the Mimbres River. The revelers pushed the school furniture against the wall for room to dance and used the seats for beds for the children when they could no longer stay awake…Sometimes after dancing all night, the participants would climb the remaining distance to Cooke’s Peak and enjoy the dawning of a new day together. 

We stopped for a snack below the summit headwall and then scrambled to the top where a little snow and rime from the previous night’s storm clung to rock and a few hardy desert plants. To the south, the craggy Florida (pronounced Flor-eed-ah)  and Tres Hermanas Mountains rose behind the town of Deming; to the west the Big Burro Mountains and Apache Peak guarded the New Mexico-Arizona border; sixty miles to the east, the Organ Mountains stood behind Las Cruces; and to the north lay Silver City and the vast Gila National Forest. A lot had happened in the country visible from the peak since humans found their way into the southwest. A little reluctantly, we started down, tired from the hike even without having danced all night.  


Ellen and our friend, Beth, at the summit of Cooke's Peak.

Carlos, Beth, and Ellen, starting the descent from the summit.

A last view to the east during the descent back to the trailhead.


Proposed Mimbres Peaks National Monument

 

Along with the Floridas, the Tres Hermanas, and the Goodsight Mountains, the Cooke’s Range is included in a proposed Mimbres Peaks National Monument, which would include just over 245,000 acres. Together, these sky islands account for remarkable biological diversity, numerous cultural sites, and unlimited opportunities for adventure. 

 

 

References

 

Barbour, Matthew J. 2014. Journey Through the Mining Camps of Cookes Peak in New Mexico Where Mineral Riches Once Thrived. Miningconnection.com.

 

Couchman, Donald Howard. 1990. Cooke’s Peak – Pasaron Por Aqui. A Focus on United States History in Southwestern New Mexico. Cultural Resources No. 7. Bureau of Land Management, Las Cruces, New Mexico.

 

Sharp, Jay. Cooke’s Canyon. Journey of Death. DesertUSA.com.

Tuesday, January 2, 2024

Exploring Fable Valley

 

Fable Valley in fall color. Archaeological sites occupy both sides of the canyon, the sagebrush flats, and even the tops of sandstone towers like the one in the distant background.
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Fable Valley cuts into the Dark Canyon Plateau joining Gypsum Canyon before emptying into the Colorado River deep in Cataract Canyon. In 1869, during his descent of the Green and Colorado, the one-armed John Wesley Powell hiked into Gypsum from the river, nearly getting caught in a flash flood and turning back before reaching the mouth of Fable Valley. 

 

Our trip last October was less dramatic than Powell’s, but it required driving 40 miles on occasionally narrow and exposed dirt roads to reach the trailhead. I was grateful for both arms as I gripped the steering wheel of our van, hoping not to encounter oncoming traffic (we didn’t). We spent four days in the valley and two full days searching for archaeology, wandering up- and down-canyon from camp, scrambling up boulder-studded slopes to ruins or rock art sites and never traveling more than a couple of miles as the crow flies because there was so much to see.

 

Had Powell made it into Fable over 150 years ago, he would have found mostly undisturbed remnants of a substantial Ancestral Puebloan community spread from one end of the canyon to the other, with Mesa Verde style cliff dwellings and granaries in high alcoves and multi-room settlements in the sagebrush below. In the interval between 1869 and 2023, most of the ruins were scavenged, though pot sherds and lithics remain. Gordon Baldwin superficially surveyed the valley in 1949, describing 24 sites but noting even then that “…from the number of ruins that show signs of digging, it is evident that pot hunters, including a number of unauthorized expeditions, have been active in certain sections for some time.”

 

Even during Baldwin’s trip, a few remnants of settlements stood where today there is only sagebrush. We searched actively for a “ground ruin” below the largest cliff dwelling a mile or so upcanyon from our camp and found only pot sherds and a few low walls. Baldwin observed that the same site “seemingly contained more than 200 rooms and probably stood more than two stories in height,” while also describing a seven-foot-high corner wall that “may represent all that remains of the rectangular towers noted by [Dr. Byron] Cummings.” Cummings visited the valley in 1909, only 40 years before Baldwin when the ruins were less disturbed. When we visited, even the corner wall was gone. Despite that, finding what remains was exciting and fun.

 

Baldwin published his findings in the Southwestern Journal of Anthropology but admitted that “Due to the hurried nature of the trip and other phases of the recreational aspects of the region that had also to be investigated [emphasis mine] comparatively little time could actually be devoted to archaeological exploration.” Despite those weasel words, his paper contributed to our then sparse knowledge of the region. 

 

Like Baldwin, we were a little hurried, spending only four days car-to-car since some of our group of six had to return to work and others had plans to “investigate other phases of the recreational aspects of the region,” as Baldwin so eloquently put it. 


A structure in an alcove down-canyon from our camp, accessed by scrambling from above and traversing across a ledge.

The group at the structure in the previous picture. Left to right: Ellen, Bay, Jane, Steve, and Larry.

A handprint panel with stylized hands painted with concentric lines.

We saw many pot sherds but no snakes, probably because the fall nights were getting cold.

Bay (left) and Ellen scouting for sites.

A circular wall on top of the tower visible in the photo at the top of this post. Accessing it required an easy 4th-class scramble up a ledgy weakness. 

Bay and Jane descending from the tower.

Pictographs near our camp. All of the figures are connected.

Fable Valley itself is appealing even without the lure of archaeology. In October, cottonwood trees were approaching peak color.

On our second full day we explored up-valley from our camp, hiking towards the sun through backlit  grasses and shrubs.

Indian rice grass and other grasses and shrubs in the morning sun.

Pictographs and handprints.

A granary looks out over Fable Valley from an alcove in a side canyon.

Larry entering the most prominent ruin we visited, high above the valley floor. This ruin has been preserved to some extent. Replaced roof logs were cut with saws rather than fire, and portions of walls were rebuilt. 

Ellen, Larry, and Bay approaching a ruin. Steve had hiked out earlier that day to return to work. 

Jane and Larry clawing their way out of a gully in the valley on the hike out. The deeply incised creek and its side drainages were hard to cross. I suspect that when the valley was occupied, they were shallower.

Back at the trailhead and ready to "investigate other phases of recreational aspects of the region." 
L to R: Bay, Larry, Jane, Ellen.


References

Adkison, Ron. 1998. Hiking Grand Staircase-Escalante & the Glen Canyon Region. A Falcon Guide.

Baldwin, Gordon C. 1949. Archaeological survey in Southeastern Utah. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 5(4):393-404.

Cummings, Byron. 1910. The ancient inhabitants of the San Juan Valley. Bulletin, University of Utah 3(3) Part 2.

Midwest Archaeological Center National Park Service, Lincoln, Nebraska. 1978. Archaeological resources of Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, and Arches National Parks and Natural Bridges National Monument, Southeastern Utah. Vol. 1. 

Road Trip Ryan (website)
































Wednesday, November 22, 2023

Silver City, New Mexico

 

Looking southwest down Highway 90, the road connecting Silver City to Lordsburg. Desert mountain ranges stretch southward through New Mexico's "bootheel" and into Mexico, waiting to be explored. 
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Ellen and I moved from Laramie to Silver City, New Mexico in August (2023). After over 40 years in Wyoming, I never thought I’d leave, but once the notion of a new geography got a toe in the door, it grew into a plan and culminated in a summer of packing, house-selling, and Uhaul-driving. Once moved, we weren’t in Silver City for long before we left to spend October in Utah (more on that later), so we are only now settling into our new home for the “winter.”

 

At about 6,000’ in the foothills of the Gila National Forest, Silver City has winter, but it’s shorter than Wyoming’s and maybe less windy (we’ll see). It snows, but not a lot, and the snow doesn’t stay around too long (we’re told). We’ll miss the skiing, but my knees are happier hiking, and the diversity of trails, plants, and animals in this ecotone between deserts and mountains is remarkable. We miss our Wyoming and Colorado friends more than the skiing, but a few of them already live here having migrated south before us, and we hope others will visit.

 

It's invigorating to make a new home in an unfamiliar place. The Gila National Forest, with over 3 million acres of mountains and canyons and the first Wilderness Area in the U.S., is on our doorstep. It’s laced with 2,000 miles of trails, including part of the Continental Divide Trail that passes within a few miles of our new house on its way north, eventually crossing Wyoming before reaching Canada. South of Silver City, the Chihuahuan Desert extends through the New Mexico “bootheel” and into Old Mexico, with innumerable mountain ranges waiting to be explored. The Sonoran Desert (saguaros!) is not far to the southwest; White Sands National Park, the Organ Mountains, and West Texas are not far to the southeast. 

 

With the upheaval of moving, I haven’t taken many photographs yet, but I’ll post a few below with some first impressions of Silver City and SW New Mexico. I’m looking forward to more focused (no pun) photography missions in the months and years to come.


Ellen on one of our early hikes here, off-trail, approaching the summit of the north Twin Sister Peak which overlooks Silver City. Shortly before taking this picture, I was buzzed by a rattler. Shortly after taking it, Ellen was buzzed by a different rattler. We aren't in Laramie anymore! Since our heads were higher than the summit, we decided to turn back. That counts, right? 

Silver City is thick with Mimbres archaeology, including settlements, rock art, and artifacts. The Mimbres were well aware of rattlesnakes too, but they're famous for their exquisite pottery (see below). We joined the local archaeological society (GCAS) and look forward to field trips and talks.

A Mimbres bowl featuring a turkey morphing into a rattlesnake. This is housed in the museum at the Western New Mexico University campus in Silver City. Unfortunately, many (most?) Mimbres sites have been looted, so many artifacts lack provenience (information about their origin). 

Mimbres grinding holes south of Silver City. These are deeper and more vertically-sided than the grooves we often see in SE Utah. Perhaps the Mimbres were grinding different seeds (mesquite?) than the corn that was commonly ground in Utah?

More recently, Apaches dominated SW New Mexico, and they also left pictographs. The Apaches tried to hold onto their land, particularly in the late 1800s when mining for precious metals drew a rush of newcomers to the Gila country. David Roberts' book, "Once They Moved Like the Wind: Cochise, Geronimo, and the Apache Wars", tells the story well, and is recommended even if you don't live here.

Speaking of mining, Silver City is adjacent to enormous open-pit copper mines, and the mountains are riddled with small prospects (and ghost towns) from the days of silver and gold mining. This image shows a portion of the Santa Rita mine east of town. The Tyrone mine, also huge, is southwest of Silver City. 

Before industrial mining, individual prospectors tried to make their fortunes in the Gila. This adit is near the Cooney mine, named for a soldier who found silver in Mineral Creek while on patrol in 1870. After leaving the army, he successfully mined in the area until he was killed by Apaches and interred inside a nearby boulder, hollowed out for that purpose by family and friends. "Black Range Tales," by James McKenna, paints a vivid picture of mining towns in the late 1800s. 

A cemetery near the Santa Rita mine east of Silver City.

Another cemetery in the Lower Mimbres Valley, SE of Silver City. 

There are interesting towns nearby. Lordsburg is about 50 miles SW of Silver City. Motel Drive in Lordsburg is lined with old motels, many abandoned.

Deming, about 50 miles to the SE, is bigger and more prosperous than Lordsburg. North of Deming in the desert I ran across this less than prosperous old mining facility (I think). 

But the mines, abandoned motels, and cemeteries aren't why we moved. Instead, it was the diversity of hiking, biking, flora, and fauna that drew us here. The landscape ranges from sparse Chihuahuan desert, to pine forests and lush riparian zones where streams flow out of the mountains. Here Ellen enjoys fall colors along Mineral Creek.

Looking south from the Mimbres Valley to Cooke's Peak (the pointy one), a prominent landmark between Silver City and Deming. We look forward to climbing it now that it's cooled down. 

We've never been birders, but SW New Mexico and Southern Arizona are hotspots, and we're trying to learn. Here, a Swainson's Hawk perches on a yucca near New Mexico's City of Rocks between Silver City and Deming. The Chiricahua Mountains, less than 2 hours southwest of Silver City, attract birders from all over the world. 

We're learning new plants too. Agaves, though not new to us, are a favorite, even when they are past their prime. 

Riparian areas are surprisingly lush. This sumac lit up our recent hike into Mineral Creek.

Silver City is not a rock climbing destination, but there is bouldering at City of Rocks (New Mexico, not Idaho) just south of here and potential for routes in canyons near town (yet to be explored). Truth or Consequences has established climbing, Tucson is less than three hours away as is Hueco Tanks, and there are many other areas within easy weekend distance. Here our friends Bret and Judy Ruckman boulder at the City of Rocks. 

An unclimbed spire in the Gila, or is that a mine adit two-thirds of the way up?

And, it's beautiful here. Another fall shot from Mineral Creek.

A sycamore tree, also in Mineral Creek.

And finally, a shot from a recent (mid-November) walk along the Gila River not far west of Silver City. We've barely begun to scratch the surface.