![inanga > Los Meurtos, near Tempe, Phoenix, Arizona
Strange, but thet still celebrate this Day of the Dead in Los Muertos, near Tempe - the day when the Pima and the Papago (Tohono O'odham) overcame the Hohokam and cast them out. Again, you rightly ask - what has this to do with a treasure hunt in the Superstitions? Quite a lot. We know the treasure is being protected - the list of 'los muertos' - the Dead - being found in the Superstitions is far greater than any other similar lair of treasure hunters.
The battle between the 'old' ones and the Tohono o'Odham ('the people of the finger language, [Odham = Ogham]) has a lot to do with what is going on in the Superstitions, now, tomorrow, whenever. If you think you have no 4-D foes then boy (or girl) are you in for a little surprise. Between the 28th and 31st of October if you are anyway in downtown Phoenix you will see the 'dead' reemerge in ghoulish masks - some are even riding motorbikes. Let's say that out in 'them thar hills' they are lurking all the time.
Now Latter Day Saints, i am going to explain to you why you should have brought the Book of Mormon. This battle of long ago is mentioned in detail in your 'good' Book. Several clues are laid therein, between the lines so to speak. What you will read in that repository of wisdom is accurate, only the names have been concealed.
For example all negotiations with the Tohono o'Odham and their allies in the Superstitions is done using the septagesimal [7] system of Mosiah as this wiki feed explains:
'Measuring system
In Alma 11, Mormon lists "the names of the different pieces of their gold, and of their silver" and their relative value (Alma 11:4). It is unclear what kind of system "reckoning" and "measure" refer to, although most Book of Mormon scholars now believe they were weights, not coins. Mormon explains that
'the names are given by the Nephites, for they did not reckon after the manner of the Jews who were at Jerusalem; neither did they measure after the manner of the Jews; but they altered their reckoning and their measure, according to the minds and the circumstances of the people, in every generation.' (Alma 11:4)
Mormon then explains that this fluctuating system was replaced with a standard system established by Mosiah². Such a uniformity of measuring systems would have done much to unify the newly formed society, streamline the calculation of exchange rates in long-distance trade, and increase trade revenue.
Gold units Silver units Relative value (in measures of barley) Equivalent
limnah onti 7
shum ezrom 4
seon amnor 2
antion 1½
senine senum 1 a measure of barley; one day for a judge
shiblon ½ half a measure of barley
shiblum ¼
leah ⅛
[Ed: having trouble aligning these.]
One of the apparent purposes of this system was economy of use. A set of weights that contained one of each unit could be used to measure out increments of up to 14 units without needing two of the same weight. Thus, a Nephite merchant could use his small personal set of weights for a range of products being sold instead of relying on a large quantity of weights.[4]'
If you are really serious about getting to use these units out in the wild you better familiarize yourself with this book - 'The short, swift time of gods on earth: the Hohokam chronicles' by Donald M Bahr as it correlates very closely with the Book of Mormon. As i said, maybe just with a change of characterization. If you are confronted with certain questions out in the Superstitions, and you are half way up the Peralta Trail already, you may need to have a knowledge of this book as bargaining background with the Tohono o'Odham.
In the spring of 1935 Juan Smith and William Smith Allison, who both lived on the Gila Indian Reservation [just below Chandler on the clue map above], sang and spoke their story to Julian Hayden. Julian was then a resident of Tucson and had devoted his life to writing on Hohokam archaeology, particularly on archaeological digs relating to Tohono o'Odham culture in the region of the Salado and Gila river valleys.
The recorded words and songs of the two Pima Songsingers were interpreted by Donald Bahr, Professor of Anthropology at Arizona State University, and author of 'Pima-Papago Ritual Oratory' (1975) and 'Piman Shamanism and Staying Sickness' (1974).
As the blurb states:
'Now this extraordinary document is presented in its entirety for the first time.
Beautifully expressed and composed of thirty-six stories, the narrative constitutes a kind of scripture for a native church, beginning with the creation of the universe out of the void and ending in the sixteenth century of present-day villages.
Central to the story is the murder/resurrection of a god-man, Siuuhu, who summoned the Pimas and Papago (Tohono o'Odham) as his army of vengeance and brought about the conquest of his murderers, the ancient Hohokam.' [ISBN 0-520-08468-3].
If you merely and simply substitute 'Tohono o'Odham' for 'Nephites' and 'Hohokam' for 'Lamanites' you are starting to get close to some old truths. Check out this about the Book of Mormon courtesy of wikipedia:
'Chronology
The books from 1 Nephi to Omni are described as being from "the small plates of Nephi".[43] This account begins in ancient Jerusalem around 600 BC. It tells the story of a man named Lehi, his family, and several others as they are led by God from Jerusalem shortly before the fall of that city to the Babylonians in 586 BC. The book describes their journey across the Arabian peninsula, and then to the promised land, the Americas, by ship.[44] These books recount the group's dealings from approximately 600 BC to about 130 BC, during which time the community grew and split into two main groups, which are called the Nephites and the Lamanites, that frequently warred with each other.
Following this section is the Words of Mormon. This small book, said to be written in AD 385 by Mormon, is a short introduction to the books of Mosiah, Alma, Helaman, 3 Nephi, and 4 Nephi.[45] These books are described as being abridged from a large quantity of existing records called "the large plates of Nephi" that detailed the people's history from the time of Omni to Mormon's own life. The book of 3 Nephi is of particular importance within the Book of Mormon because it contains an account of a visit by Jesus from heaven to the Americas sometime after his resurrection and ascension. The text says that during this American visit, he repeated much of the same doctrine and instruction given in the Gospels of the Bible and he established an enlightened, peaceful society which endured for several generations, but which eventually broke into warring factions again.'
For the battles which followed go directly to the Book of Mormon: http://scriptures.lds.org/en/3_ne/4
[more to come...Ed]
clue courtesy of Spider Grandmother [if you stand back you will see her], Google Earth [the treasure hunt clue map], a Phoenician cactus [Devil's tongue barrel or Crow's claw barrel, 'Ferocactus latispinus'], Picasa 3, SmugMug, Google and Mozilla Firefox October 2009
inanga](http://www.hogproductions.com/Street-Scenes/Roadside-Arizona/Tohono/681256046_q7Rqr-Ti.jpg "inanga > Los Meurtos, near Tempe, Phoenix, Arizona
Strange, but thet still celebrate this Day of the Dead in Los Muertos, near Tempe - the day when the Pima and the Papago (Tohono O'odham) overcame the Hohokam and cast them out. Again, you rightly ask - what has this to do with a treasure hunt in the Superstitions? Quite a lot. We know the treasure is being protected - the list of 'los muertos' - the Dead - being found in the Superstitions is far greater than any other similar lair of treasure hunters.
The battle between the 'old' ones and the Tohono o'Odham ('the people of the finger language, [Odham = Ogham]) has a lot to do with what is going on in the Superstitions, now, tomorrow, whenever. If you think you have no 4-D foes then boy (or girl) are you in for a little surprise. Between the 28th and 31st of October if you are anyway in downtown Phoenix you will see the 'dead' reemerge in ghoulish masks - some are even riding motorbikes. Let's say that out in 'them thar hills' they are lurking all the time.
Now Latter Day Saints, i am going to explain to you why you should have brought the Book of Mormon. This battle of long ago is mentioned in detail in your 'good' Book. Several clues are laid therein, between the lines so to speak. What you will read in that repository of wisdom is accurate, only the names have been concealed.
For example all negotiations with the Tohono o'Odham and their allies in the Superstitions is done using the septagesimal [7] system of Mosiah as this wiki feed explains:
'Measuring system
In Alma 11, Mormon lists \"the names of the different pieces of their gold, and of their silver\" and their relative value (Alma 11:4). It is unclear what kind of system \"reckoning\" and \"measure\" refer to, although most Book of Mormon scholars now believe they were weights, not coins. Mormon explains that
'the names are given by the Nephites, for they did not reckon after the manner of the Jews who were at Jerusalem; neither did they measure after the manner of the Jews; but they altered their reckoning and their measure, according to the minds and the circumstances of the people, in every generation.' (Alma 11:4)
Mormon then explains that this fluctuating system was replaced with a standard system established by Mosiah². Such a uniformity of measuring systems would have done much to unify the newly formed society, streamline the calculation of exchange rates in long-distance trade, and increase trade revenue.
Gold units Silver units Relative value (in measures of barley) Equivalent
limnah onti 7
shum ezrom 4
seon amnor 2
antion 1½
senine senum 1 a measure of barley; one day for a judge
shiblon ½ half a measure of barley
shiblum ¼
leah ⅛
[Ed: having trouble aligning these.]
One of the apparent purposes of this system was economy of use. A set of weights that contained one of each unit could be used to measure out increments of up to 14 units without needing two of the same weight. Thus, a Nephite merchant could use his small personal set of weights for a range of products being sold instead of relying on a large quantity of weights.[4]'
If you are really serious about getting to use these units out in the wild you better familiarize yourself with this book - 'The short, swift time of gods on earth: the Hohokam chronicles' by Donald M Bahr as it correlates very closely with the Book of Mormon. As i said, maybe just with a change of characterization. If you are confronted with certain questions out in the Superstitions, and you are half way up the Peralta Trail already, you may need to have a knowledge of this book as bargaining background with the Tohono o'Odham.
In the spring of 1935 Juan Smith and William Smith Allison, who both lived on the Gila Indian Reservation [just below Chandler on the clue map above], sang and spoke their story to Julian Hayden. Julian was then a resident of Tucson and had devoted his life to writing on Hohokam archaeology, particularly on archaeological digs relating to Tohono o'Odham culture in the region of the Salado and Gila river valleys.
The recorded words and songs of the two Pima Songsingers were interpreted by Donald Bahr, Professor of Anthropology at Arizona State University, and author of 'Pima-Papago Ritual Oratory' (1975) and 'Piman Shamanism and Staying Sickness' (1974).
As the blurb states:
'Now this extraordinary document is presented in its entirety for the first time.
Beautifully expressed and composed of thirty-six stories, the narrative constitutes a kind of scripture for a native church, beginning with the creation of the universe out of the void and ending in the sixteenth century of present-day villages.
Central to the story is the murder/resurrection of a god-man, Siuuhu, who summoned the Pimas and Papago (Tohono o'Odham) as his army of vengeance and brought about the conquest of his murderers, the ancient Hohokam.' [ISBN 0-520-08468-3].
If you merely and simply substitute 'Tohono o'Odham' for 'Nephites' and 'Hohokam' for 'Lamanites' you are starting to get close to some old truths. Check out this about the Book of Mormon courtesy of wikipedia:
'Chronology
The books from 1 Nephi to Omni are described as being from \"the small plates of Nephi\".[43] This account begins in ancient Jerusalem around 600 BC. It tells the story of a man named Lehi, his family, and several others as they are led by God from Jerusalem shortly before the fall of that city to the Babylonians in 586 BC. The book describes their journey across the Arabian peninsula, and then to the promised land, the Americas, by ship.[44] These books recount the group's dealings from approximately 600 BC to about 130 BC, during which time the community grew and split into two main groups, which are called the Nephites and the Lamanites, that frequently warred with each other.
Following this section is the Words of Mormon. This small book, said to be written in AD 385 by Mormon, is a short introduction to the books of Mosiah, Alma, Helaman, 3 Nephi, and 4 Nephi.[45] These books are described as being abridged from a large quantity of existing records called \"the large plates of Nephi\" that detailed the people's history from the time of Omni to Mormon's own life. The book of 3 Nephi is of particular importance within the Book of Mormon because it contains an account of a visit by Jesus from heaven to the Americas sometime after his resurrection and ascension. The text says that during this American visit, he repeated much of the same doctrine and instruction given in the Gospels of the Bible and he established an enlightened, peaceful society which endured for several generations, but which eventually broke into warring factions again.'
For the battles which followed go directly to the Book of Mormon: http://scriptures.lds.org/en/3_ne/4
[more to come...Ed]
clue courtesy of Spider Grandmother [if you stand back you will see her], Google Earth [the treasure hunt clue map], a Phoenician cactus [Devil's tongue barrel or Crow's claw barrel, 'Ferocactus latispinus'], Picasa 3, SmugMug, Google and Mozilla Firefox October 2009
inanga")
![inanga > Massacre Grounds
Before you make your first step across Fremont Saddle you had better read this - me and my first visit to the Massacre Grounds, and a little 'background'. And so close to the Valley of Armageddon - it's almost like 'A'm-a-gettin'' outa' here. This was all a few years back.
Back then, i took a shuttle down to Phoenix and then hitched out to the Golden Hillside Mine in Lost Dutchman State Park. I checked my pack to see if all i needed was there. I struck out east across the road to the area known as the Massacre Grounds. i had to appease the ancestors by leaving stones there, so i set up a small fire and lay out my sleeping mat and bag.
Over this i erected a small plastic sheet, in the unlikely event of rain. It was in earshot of the road. My idea was to enter the heart of the Superstitions and wait until i was trapped in the loop. It was late afternoon and i was exhausted after the preparations of the day before. After i had made a hot drink with my second to last bottle of water i crept into my sleeping bag and lay thinking. I had a grasp of all the clues but i didn't want to think too much of them at this stage. I half knew that the gold was just a reason to get me into these mountains.
Humphrey Bogart had been here before searching for the treasure of the Lost Dutchman in a Hollywood movie called 'The Treasure of the Sierra Madre'. He and his companions were gripped with the cursed madness tearing at their very being. Laughter echoed in the valley of the Massacre Grounds. And then there was howling, screaming, anguish, and blood curdling yells. There was slaughter all around. The Apaches fired volleys of arrows at the scared foreigners. They penned them into a ravine. They screamed to their God for mercy, vomited, choked and stood on the precipice of death. From above, the attackers rolled boulders and these fell through the darkness striking the life from those below. They were helpless in their armor, suited more to the jousting field. The Apaches cursed them as their souls departed this world.
Their chief spoke:
'You come to steal our gold. Why do you treasure it so? You can't eat it. Yet you wish to steal it. Before you came to steal, and we had know that you came with honest intentions, we would have fed you, shared our shelter, and seen you safe through the desert. Now when we meet you on the brink of death in the desert we will stuff your mouths full of gold dust.'
The Peraltas were massacred at this spot but in my dream i saw conquistadors in armor dying under a hail of boulders. It was also here that the two strange, old prospectors known as Goldlock and Silverlock [no joking about names - Ed] recovered $15,000 in gold around 1914. It is likely that they recovered this from the Peralta cache that had been abandoned at the time of the massacre.
In the morning i awoke and looked for pieces of armor which had been crushed by rocks and rattling with bones. My dream in the harsh light of day had vanished. Obviously the Black Legion had not cottoned on to a lone camper in the Massacre Grounds yet, or at least they would have left some form of warning. i searched thoroughly around for footprints, and went beyond the sandy area to look for signs of disturbance. Nothing. So passed an uneventful first evening on the edge of the Superstitions alone.
At First Water Creek i realised that i was running out of water, so i searched around and dug in the sand, at a place where arroyo came together. Water started to fill the small hole and i let it settle before i started carefully filling the bottles with the oozing brackish water.
i looked around and it seemed that i was penned in by the steep rocky cliffs. It was about half a mile as the crow flies to the recesses of O'Grady Canyon. There was seemingly no way through and a huge circular bluff dominated the access path. At the entrance to O'Grady Canyon i started climbing up through a notch that would lead north. An eagle soared above and i took heart that it was a good omen and guide. i cast sigils in the air and placed a piece of stone at the entrance to the notch. i had no idea where I was going but i knew that the passage northeast would eventually intersect a trail which led southeast to Weaver's Needle - the famed Weaver's Needle that featured in just about every legend of the Superstitions.
It was tough going in the canyon and progress was interminably slow. The ground eased off to the east and i climbed up through a boulder field. Below i could see an indistinct trail that zig-zagged across a creek led into Boulder Basin. i dropped into the trail, tripped and fell against a cactus. Fortunately it was not cholla but several lines of blood oozed from my palms and my arms. i disregarded the blood, knowing that this would happen time and time again. i had a bag of beef jerky and sat momentarily, then greedily ripped at a large piece and munched on it noisily.
Instead of heading north to the Dutchman's Trail i decided to take an easterly short cut to the Peralta Trail which i knew dropped south to Weaver's Needle. All the time i kept my eyes peeled for recesses and caves on the canyon wall. The ground was not too difficult but i know i would have saved time if i had used the actual trail.
Finally i could see Weaver's Needle to the southwest, and East Boulder Canyon and the Peralta Canyon Trail heading northwest-southeast. Weaver's Needle is one of the most dominating features you could ever imagine in a desert. It reminded me of Uluru in the red center of Australia or Chimney Rock in Nebraska. There was a group of hikers in the far distance. This was the most popular time of the year for hiking, because of the lower temperatures of November and December. i was tired but knew that i had to get down in the canyon to look for a pool of water. You can stay alive in the desert if you have water but a pocketful of gold or semi-precious gems is next to useless.
i sat gathering my thoughts and just as i was about to start walking i spied some petroglyphs on a nearby rock which lay in the recess of an overhang. They were covered with rock varnish and i deduced that they were of considerable age, perhaps Tohono o'Odham.
Unbeknown to me two men inched to a prominent viewpoint and peered at me through the telescopic sights of their rifles.
Working out the meaning of the petroglyphs wasn‘t easy. One which i traced with my finger was familiar. It was a snake that entwined around a staff. The staff was crooked at one end. To the left of the caduceus was a maze symbol with two barely visible figures at each end of the maze. i knew it to be the Hopi man in the maze, and i knew that i was well and truly in it. All other figures were too varnished to discern. i took the discovery to be a sign that i was being guided and that i had reached the point in this three-dimensional anagram that i had to be.
i clambered down towards the Peralta Trail with the lofty bulk of Palomino Mountain to my north. When i found a flat patch of ground, more sand than rock, i set up camp for the night, about half a mile from the trail. The sun was getting low and it would soon be dark. i boiled some water and made some tea. Tomorrow i'd explore around the Needle so i lay back and thought of possibilities. And this entailed recapping more of the stories of treasure hunters.
Adolph Ruth, the cripple who came to search for the Lost Dutchman's mine alone. He had been left in West Boulder Canyon by two cowboys. He was armed with a copy of the Peralta map, which he had told all and sundry was an authentic version. To the east of my small camp, about a mile away, was Black Top Mesa. Ruth disappeared for six months until his skull was found by dogs on top of Black Top. The skull had a single bullet hole. Later his headless body was found in another location. There was no sign of his map, only a notebook with some of Ruth's handwritten notes. But the notebook was incomplete, with pivotal information missing.
In Ruth's handwriting were the words 'veni, vida, vica... about 200 feet across from a cave.' The 'it' in the notebook could well refer to the mine, and the 'it' was within a two and a half mile radius of Weaver's Needle. But Ruth came, saw something, but certainly, unlike Caesar, did not conquer. The Superstitions were a killing ground, no doubt.
A dozen or so people disappeared in here between 1951 and 1961, and gun battles were involved in some of these deaths. Some seven of the missing had been shot and killed and their murders left unsolved. Someone may still have the important missing notes from Ruth's notebook, passed down over time. i felt a chill up my spine and my hair stood on end.
And James Cravey. Another crippled man who had disappeared. He came in by helicopter and landed near the head of La Barge Canyon. After the helicopter lifted off Cravey was never seen alive again. His body, wrapped in a blanket, was found seven months after he went missing, in February 1948. He had been decapitated, and a short time later his skull was found. In Cravey's case it was obvious that someone had moved the body to a place where it could be found, attaching it to a rope which had been laid across a well-trod trail. It may have been that the person who moved the body wanted to deter further searching in the region.
It was a lonely spot when dark descended and i stared up at the stars of a now familiar night sky. I heard what I thought were footsteps and hurried out of my sleeping bag to investigate. i couldn't go far as i had deliberately not carried a flashlight. It could well be an animal. i moved over to a clump of boulders and saw what seemed to be a human form. My heart was pounding. Suddenly a figure came into the firelight behind me with his hand held out:
'Is this your stone?'
i composed myself as another armed figure appeared in the half light.
He aimed his rifle directly at my head, and i gulped, preparing for death. i was no stranger to the feeling having been detained at gunpoint several times before in Africa, when i traveled there writing for Lonely Planet.
'Take it!' the figure demanded. i could now see that he was Native American.
'Take it and go away from here.'
i took the piece of stone in my hand and it was the greenstone i had thrown to the ground at the start of O'Grady Canyon. These two people had retrieved it and followed me all the way to this camp.
'It is pounamu from New Zealand, my country. i mean no harm. i have come into these mountains to look for something, something more important than gold. The gold is just a clue.'
'You have been to our sacred grounds. You walked through our burial ground and touched our rock carvings. We have seen you. You are not hiking here. You are looking.'
The other intruder cocked his rifle and i prepared to die. The person who handed me the stone spoke:
'Tomorrow you leave here. Take the Peralta Trail to the south. You can live but you may not return or we will kill you. This is your last chance. This is our sacred ground and we want no strangers. You do not travel the beaten path. If you had we would not have followed. So go.'
As quickly as the appeared they melted into the darkness. They could have been Black Legion protecting their treasures or secrets, or they may have been merely preventing violation of their burial grounds. i had decided much earlier that if i died in the quest so be it. It would be the will of God. i would head down to the Needle in the morning and try and lose these watchers. They had the advantage of following and watching in the distance by virtue of their telescopic sights. But i would watch for them.
It was a fitful sleep of no remembered dreams.
There was a chill in the air the following morning. The sun had not yet risen over the surrounding rock features. i knew that every movement i made was being watched so i packed slowly, every now and then glancing around at the surrounding high points. i started off down the Boulder Canyon-Peralta Canyon Trail in the direction i had been told to go.
i was soon at the base of Weaver's Needle which loomed over the trail at this point. In a likely sink where i knew i'd find water, i filled mybottles again - it was in East Boulder Canyon. Fill when you can, fill every time - and be ever mindful that you may not be so lucky every time.
Behind me was a flash, the glint from glass. i was still being observed. Perhaps i could hide and wait until i could watch the watchers. i moved into a crevice, carefully covering my tracks with a broken piece of bush. But knowing that they would have seen me leave the path i knew I’d have to keep low until they came into my view.
They would be master trackers - that was obvious from their following me the previous day, so i would have to be careful. i was right beside the point where Weaver’s Needle rose abruptly to the sky, but the rugged hillside offered a mass of possibilities for concealment.
After about an hour i saw them. Two figures were silhouetted on a far ridge. Every now and then they would stop, move a hundred yards or so, then scan the surrounding area. They were well away from the trail, carefully avoiding a large group of hikers i could see snaking their way up towards the Needle. i could have joined them, seeking safety in numbers, but realized that they would consider my explanations a little mad.
The two intruders from the evening before crossed the trail. They had guessed rightly that i was somewhere near its southern base where an indistinct trail led over a narrow saddle and on to Needle Canyon, the prominent arroyo on the Needle's east. They passed about two hundred yards below me and i could see that they both still carried rifles with telescopic sights. They were the two i had encountered yesterday and they also carried small backpacks. Not one hiker would have considered this unusual as just about every party coming into the Superstitions came armed, except for me.
When i was sure they had dropped well into Needle Canyon i moved to a position where i could better observe them. They were now distant. i decided to stay near Weaver's and camp in a crevice where it would be difficult to find me. There would be no fire this evening. i ate a little food, crawled into my bag, and listened intently, all the while thinking of the path to this point. i had entered a strange realm, almost unbelievable, and had to pinch myself to prove that i wasn't imagining it all. New Zealand and my family, Australia and Cal, and the Eredo in Nigeria, seemed so far away. This journey was nothing like the usual assignment for Lonely Planet, that was for sure.
i fell asleep and the next i knew it was morning, bitterly cold. The crevice was dark and the sun had yet to rise. i remembered where i was and looked around to see if anyone was approaching. The air was still and i could hear birdsong only. No human voices in between. i decided to stay in the sleeping bag until it was light enough to scan the surrounding countryside. i was stiff all over and badly in need of a pee. i moved to my side and urinated on the ground, careful not to spill over the bag as it had do considerable service from this point.
Thinking that my two pursuers would be looking for me in Needle Canyon, i decided to continue south towards the Peralta Trail. i'd keep well away from the trail, although i would come close to it at Fremont Saddle, the dividing point between East Boulder and Peralta canyons. It was too dangerous to stay and explore around the Needle and i had to distance myself from it as quickly as possible. Using the more difficult route it took me about three hours to reach the Saddle. There was a tired party of hikers at the top.
[And that is where i find anyone following this treasure hunt for the Lost Dutchman’s gold now - only a few years’ later - Ed:]](http://www.hogproductions.com/Street-Scenes/Roadside-Arizona/massacre-Ground/667210224_97G2a-Ti.jpg "inanga > Massacre Grounds
Before you make your first step across Fremont Saddle you had better read this - me and my first visit to the Massacre Grounds, and a little 'background'. And so close to the Valley of Armageddon - it's almost like 'A'm-a-gettin'' outa' here. This was all a few years back.
Back then, i took a shuttle down to Phoenix and then hitched out to the Golden Hillside Mine in Lost Dutchman State Park. I checked my pack to see if all i needed was there. I struck out east across the road to the area known as the Massacre Grounds. i had to appease the ancestors by leaving stones there, so i set up a small fire and lay out my sleeping mat and bag.
Over this i erected a small plastic sheet, in the unlikely event of rain. It was in earshot of the road. My idea was to enter the heart of the Superstitions and wait until i was trapped in the loop. It was late afternoon and i was exhausted after the preparations of the day before. After i had made a hot drink with my second to last bottle of water i crept into my sleeping bag and lay thinking. I had a grasp of all the clues but i didn't want to think too much of them at this stage. I half knew that the gold was just a reason to get me into these mountains.
Humphrey Bogart had been here before searching for the treasure of the Lost Dutchman in a Hollywood movie called 'The Treasure of the Sierra Madre'. He and his companions were gripped with the cursed madness tearing at their very being. Laughter echoed in the valley of the Massacre Grounds. And then there was howling, screaming, anguish, and blood curdling yells. There was slaughter all around. The Apaches fired volleys of arrows at the scared foreigners. They penned them into a ravine. They screamed to their God for mercy, vomited, choked and stood on the precipice of death. From above, the attackers rolled boulders and these fell through the darkness striking the life from those below. They were helpless in their armor, suited more to the jousting field. The Apaches cursed them as their souls departed this world.
Their chief spoke:
'You come to steal our gold. Why do you treasure it so? You can't eat it. Yet you wish to steal it. Before you came to steal, and we had know that you came with honest intentions, we would have fed you, shared our shelter, and seen you safe through the desert. Now when we meet you on the brink of death in the desert we will stuff your mouths full of gold dust.'
The Peraltas were massacred at this spot but in my dream i saw conquistadors in armor dying under a hail of boulders. It was also here that the two strange, old prospectors known as Goldlock and Silverlock [no joking about names - Ed] recovered $15,000 in gold around 1914. It is likely that they recovered this from the Peralta cache that had been abandoned at the time of the massacre.
In the morning i awoke and looked for pieces of armor which had been crushed by rocks and rattling with bones. My dream in the harsh light of day had vanished. Obviously the Black Legion had not cottoned on to a lone camper in the Massacre Grounds yet, or at least they would have left some form of warning. i searched thoroughly around for footprints, and went beyond the sandy area to look for signs of disturbance. Nothing. So passed an uneventful first evening on the edge of the Superstitions alone.
At First Water Creek i realised that i was running out of water, so i searched around and dug in the sand, at a place where arroyo came together. Water started to fill the small hole and i let it settle before i started carefully filling the bottles with the oozing brackish water.
i looked around and it seemed that i was penned in by the steep rocky cliffs. It was about half a mile as the crow flies to the recesses of O'Grady Canyon. There was seemingly no way through and a huge circular bluff dominated the access path. At the entrance to O'Grady Canyon i started climbing up through a notch that would lead north. An eagle soared above and i took heart that it was a good omen and guide. i cast sigils in the air and placed a piece of stone at the entrance to the notch. i had no idea where I was going but i knew that the passage northeast would eventually intersect a trail which led southeast to Weaver's Needle - the famed Weaver's Needle that featured in just about every legend of the Superstitions.
It was tough going in the canyon and progress was interminably slow. The ground eased off to the east and i climbed up through a boulder field. Below i could see an indistinct trail that zig-zagged across a creek led into Boulder Basin. i dropped into the trail, tripped and fell against a cactus. Fortunately it was not cholla but several lines of blood oozed from my palms and my arms. i disregarded the blood, knowing that this would happen time and time again. i had a bag of beef jerky and sat momentarily, then greedily ripped at a large piece and munched on it noisily.
Instead of heading north to the Dutchman's Trail i decided to take an easterly short cut to the Peralta Trail which i knew dropped south to Weaver's Needle. All the time i kept my eyes peeled for recesses and caves on the canyon wall. The ground was not too difficult but i know i would have saved time if i had used the actual trail.
Finally i could see Weaver's Needle to the southwest, and East Boulder Canyon and the Peralta Canyon Trail heading northwest-southeast. Weaver's Needle is one of the most dominating features you could ever imagine in a desert. It reminded me of Uluru in the red center of Australia or Chimney Rock in Nebraska. There was a group of hikers in the far distance. This was the most popular time of the year for hiking, because of the lower temperatures of November and December. i was tired but knew that i had to get down in the canyon to look for a pool of water. You can stay alive in the desert if you have water but a pocketful of gold or semi-precious gems is next to useless.
i sat gathering my thoughts and just as i was about to start walking i spied some petroglyphs on a nearby rock which lay in the recess of an overhang. They were covered with rock varnish and i deduced that they were of considerable age, perhaps Tohono o'Odham.
Unbeknown to me two men inched to a prominent viewpoint and peered at me through the telescopic sights of their rifles.
Working out the meaning of the petroglyphs wasn‘t easy. One which i traced with my finger was familiar. It was a snake that entwined around a staff. The staff was crooked at one end. To the left of the caduceus was a maze symbol with two barely visible figures at each end of the maze. i knew it to be the Hopi man in the maze, and i knew that i was well and truly in it. All other figures were too varnished to discern. i took the discovery to be a sign that i was being guided and that i had reached the point in this three-dimensional anagram that i had to be.
i clambered down towards the Peralta Trail with the lofty bulk of Palomino Mountain to my north. When i found a flat patch of ground, more sand than rock, i set up camp for the night, about half a mile from the trail. The sun was getting low and it would soon be dark. i boiled some water and made some tea. Tomorrow i'd explore around the Needle so i lay back and thought of possibilities. And this entailed recapping more of the stories of treasure hunters.
Adolph Ruth, the cripple who came to search for the Lost Dutchman's mine alone. He had been left in West Boulder Canyon by two cowboys. He was armed with a copy of the Peralta map, which he had told all and sundry was an authentic version. To the east of my small camp, about a mile away, was Black Top Mesa. Ruth disappeared for six months until his skull was found by dogs on top of Black Top. The skull had a single bullet hole. Later his headless body was found in another location. There was no sign of his map, only a notebook with some of Ruth's handwritten notes. But the notebook was incomplete, with pivotal information missing.
In Ruth's handwriting were the words 'veni, vida, vica... about 200 feet across from a cave.' The 'it' in the notebook could well refer to the mine, and the 'it' was within a two and a half mile radius of Weaver's Needle. But Ruth came, saw something, but certainly, unlike Caesar, did not conquer. The Superstitions were a killing ground, no doubt.
A dozen or so people disappeared in here between 1951 and 1961, and gun battles were involved in some of these deaths. Some seven of the missing had been shot and killed and their murders left unsolved. Someone may still have the important missing notes from Ruth's notebook, passed down over time. i felt a chill up my spine and my hair stood on end.
And James Cravey. Another crippled man who had disappeared. He came in by helicopter and landed near the head of La Barge Canyon. After the helicopter lifted off Cravey was never seen alive again. His body, wrapped in a blanket, was found seven months after he went missing, in February 1948. He had been decapitated, and a short time later his skull was found. In Cravey's case it was obvious that someone had moved the body to a place where it could be found, attaching it to a rope which had been laid across a well-trod trail. It may have been that the person who moved the body wanted to deter further searching in the region.
It was a lonely spot when dark descended and i stared up at the stars of a now familiar night sky. I heard what I thought were footsteps and hurried out of my sleeping bag to investigate. i couldn't go far as i had deliberately not carried a flashlight. It could well be an animal. i moved over to a clump of boulders and saw what seemed to be a human form. My heart was pounding. Suddenly a figure came into the firelight behind me with his hand held out:
'Is this your stone?'
i composed myself as another armed figure appeared in the half light.
He aimed his rifle directly at my head, and i gulped, preparing for death. i was no stranger to the feeling having been detained at gunpoint several times before in Africa, when i traveled there writing for Lonely Planet.
'Take it!' the figure demanded. i could now see that he was Native American.
'Take it and go away from here.'
i took the piece of stone in my hand and it was the greenstone i had thrown to the ground at the start of O'Grady Canyon. These two people had retrieved it and followed me all the way to this camp.
'It is pounamu from New Zealand, my country. i mean no harm. i have come into these mountains to look for something, something more important than gold. The gold is just a clue.'
'You have been to our sacred grounds. You walked through our burial ground and touched our rock carvings. We have seen you. You are not hiking here. You are looking.'
The other intruder cocked his rifle and i prepared to die. The person who handed me the stone spoke:
'Tomorrow you leave here. Take the Peralta Trail to the south. You can live but you may not return or we will kill you. This is your last chance. This is our sacred ground and we want no strangers. You do not travel the beaten path. If you had we would not have followed. So go.'
As quickly as the appeared they melted into the darkness. They could have been Black Legion protecting their treasures or secrets, or they may have been merely preventing violation of their burial grounds. i had decided much earlier that if i died in the quest so be it. It would be the will of God. i would head down to the Needle in the morning and try and lose these watchers. They had the advantage of following and watching in the distance by virtue of their telescopic sights. But i would watch for them.
It was a fitful sleep of no remembered dreams.
There was a chill in the air the following morning. The sun had not yet risen over the surrounding rock features. i knew that every movement i made was being watched so i packed slowly, every now and then glancing around at the surrounding high points. i started off down the Boulder Canyon-Peralta Canyon Trail in the direction i had been told to go.
i was soon at the base of Weaver's Needle which loomed over the trail at this point. In a likely sink where i knew i'd find water, i filled mybottles again - it was in East Boulder Canyon. Fill when you can, fill every time - and be ever mindful that you may not be so lucky every time.
Behind me was a flash, the glint from glass. i was still being observed. Perhaps i could hide and wait until i could watch the watchers. i moved into a crevice, carefully covering my tracks with a broken piece of bush. But knowing that they would have seen me leave the path i knew I’d have to keep low until they came into my view.
They would be master trackers - that was obvious from their following me the previous day, so i would have to be careful. i was right beside the point where Weaver’s Needle rose abruptly to the sky, but the rugged hillside offered a mass of possibilities for concealment.
After about an hour i saw them. Two figures were silhouetted on a far ridge. Every now and then they would stop, move a hundred yards or so, then scan the surrounding area. They were well away from the trail, carefully avoiding a large group of hikers i could see snaking their way up towards the Needle. i could have joined them, seeking safety in numbers, but realized that they would consider my explanations a little mad.
The two intruders from the evening before crossed the trail. They had guessed rightly that i was somewhere near its southern base where an indistinct trail led over a narrow saddle and on to Needle Canyon, the prominent arroyo on the Needle's east. They passed about two hundred yards below me and i could see that they both still carried rifles with telescopic sights. They were the two i had encountered yesterday and they also carried small backpacks. Not one hiker would have considered this unusual as just about every party coming into the Superstitions came armed, except for me.
When i was sure they had dropped well into Needle Canyon i moved to a position where i could better observe them. They were now distant. i decided to stay near Weaver's and camp in a crevice where it would be difficult to find me. There would be no fire this evening. i ate a little food, crawled into my bag, and listened intently, all the while thinking of the path to this point. i had entered a strange realm, almost unbelievable, and had to pinch myself to prove that i wasn't imagining it all. New Zealand and my family, Australia and Cal, and the Eredo in Nigeria, seemed so far away. This journey was nothing like the usual assignment for Lonely Planet, that was for sure.
i fell asleep and the next i knew it was morning, bitterly cold. The crevice was dark and the sun had yet to rise. i remembered where i was and looked around to see if anyone was approaching. The air was still and i could hear birdsong only. No human voices in between. i decided to stay in the sleeping bag until it was light enough to scan the surrounding countryside. i was stiff all over and badly in need of a pee. i moved to my side and urinated on the ground, careful not to spill over the bag as it had do considerable service from this point.
Thinking that my two pursuers would be looking for me in Needle Canyon, i decided to continue south towards the Peralta Trail. i'd keep well away from the trail, although i would come close to it at Fremont Saddle, the dividing point between East Boulder and Peralta canyons. It was too dangerous to stay and explore around the Needle and i had to distance myself from it as quickly as possible. Using the more difficult route it took me about three hours to reach the Saddle. There was a tired party of hikers at the top.
[And that is where i find anyone following this treasure hunt for the Lost Dutchman’s gold now - only a few years’ later - Ed:]")
![inanga > Make an Offering First
The Egyptian was as 'superstitious' as the Superstitions themselves, and his paleao-astronomical background led him to warn me: 'Make an offering first. The Mexican always makes one and 'he is still alive'.
In the days before i entered the Superstitions and took that fateful step across the trailhead at the entrance to Peralta Canyon, i made a trip to Papago Butte just south of Phoenix - on the above advice. i trusted the Egyptian knowing that his forebears had built the pyramids, a feat almost impossible today.
Papago is the Southwestern term for telescope. Many, many years ago when the first people came to the Southwest they came with the knowledge of the ancients carried in woven bags. There were men with knowledge of the water, and they knew where water could be found, where it could be channeled, when it would come in the form of rain or snow, and where it could be found in the ground. There were those that knew the magic chants that were used for every building, birth, death, wedding, all the calls to the ancestors and to the gods. There were healers, carvers, potters, seers, sages and prophets. And the astronomers among them were called the far-sighted as they could see far into the universe for the secrets of the year-cycle of death and rebirth. Their papago were imbued with magic power and could see far beyond. With the first bearers of the whale's knowlege came the astronomers.
i took 10 down as far as Maricopa Road - 347 on the map - and then passed through Gila River Indian Reservation. The gila monster is a ferocious reptile sacred to many tribes in this region (and i think it is somehow related to the Kiwi tuatara).
i turned down onto a straight dirt road which led up to the Palo Verde Mountains. i looked up at them, still bright red in the afternoon sun as i pulled the car up at the end of the road. It continued but at this point it was littered with discarded auto parts, rubber tyres and anything else that would provide a suitable target for weekend shooters. There were the remnants of drunk joy shoots with automatic, semi-automatic and loading weapons. Everything was peppered with bullet holes. Behind it lay a singular butte at the base of the Palo Verde.
i prepared the items i needed, including water, and started climbing from the base of Hidden Valley. There was no one to be seen and the air was quiet.
As i scrambled upwards i picked up a piece of nylon cord and put it in my pocket. At the top there was a lone tree, a stunted Arizona cypress. i took a dream-catcher out of my pack. It was commercially made and the feathers indicating the four points of the earth had been chemically dyed. It didn't matter. i took out the longest of my greenstone pendants, one about eight-inches long, and attached it to the base of the dream-catcher which i then hung from a bough of the stunted cypress.
i then took out a piece of conglomerate volcanic rock which i had picked up from Big Bay, New Zealand, and tied this to the base of the dream-catcher with the nylon cord. i stood back, gathered together twigs, leaves and grass and made a small fire. i then recited a prayer for the Mother goddess and another for the ancestors. It was the important day of All Hallow E'en. And elsewhere in the northern hemisphere groups of Wiccan were celebrating the shortest day, when the souls of the living could commune with the dead. And in myriad other cultures believers conferred with their dead, and in many places people visited the underworlds and otherworlds. And many children trick or treated at doors all over the world and dressed in the clothing of witches and demons, gods and devils, at the modern parody of this important annual occasion.
When i finished chanting i stepped back to take a look at my surroundings. There wasn't a cloud in the sky but the sun would soon set behind the Palo Verde Mountains. Just on the top of this hill it began to rain, and soon everything around, including my bag, was wet with the tears of the goddess. i went over to the backside of the butte. The earth was dry, for it hadn't rained here, and i descended into an arroyo which led into Hidden Valley.
The cloud had cleared from the butte and i could just make out the circle of the dream-catcher on the cypress. i clambered down through some thorny bushes and cactus into a rocky cliff edge riddled with caves. i crawled into one of the entrances and took out the eagle's talon and a rough hewn, water worn piece of pounamu (greenstone). Here within the belly of the earth mother, a one-time burial cave and haunt of the ancestors i left them, and took a small scoop of floor sand in return.
On the way down the track that led to the car, i passed another cave entrance that was pock-marked with rifle and pistol fire. i turned away from the car, went as far up into Hidden Valley to were I could spot an easy ascent point to the summits of the Palo Verdes. i negotiated my way through the rocks and cactus, and climbed up into the darkness. Every now and then i would be scratched by a cactus, but in the half-light i could spot the notorious cholla which left barbs in the skin, and took ten days to heal.
At the top of the Palo Verdes i slowly made my way to a high point. The sprawling mass of lights which was night-time Phoenix was to the north, as was the silhouette of the South Mountains. But it was the night sky which took my breath away. Looking due north i could see Polaris with Ursa Minor dipping to the northwest. Beneath it lay Ursa Major, the big dipper distinguished by the bright stars Aklaid, Mizar, Alioth and Dubhe zigzaging above the northwestern horizon.
The Navajo say that Black God put the revolving male Ursa Major and the revolving female Ursa Minor there. They chase each other for eternity around Polaris, the star that never moves, returning to the same position in the night sky on each day of this year, as it was the year before. Black God placed all the stars in the sky, he of night time and darkness. But the wily, cunning, stealthy Coyote was always playing tricks. Black God was slow, too slow for Coyote, so the impatient trickster took the star pouch from the god and through it into the sky, sprinkling the stars into patterns which stargazers, in all time onwards would recognise.
To the Zuni of New Mexico Ursa Major was the 'gourd with a handle', to western civilisation the 'big dipper'. To the Hopi of the three mesas it was a star sling or thrower which cast all stars as we see them in the sky. Sootuvipi contained the stars in its pouch before they were cast into the realm of Black God.
The Milky Way, best observed on this moonless night when the dead lived and the living died, was the creation of the Apache warrior gods. When they came to battle they spilt star seeds from their pouches and added this star band to both hemispheres, for balance in opposites.
To the northeast was the constellation of Auriga, the charioteer with the distinctive bright stars of Menkalinan and Capella. To the east of Capella, the brightest of the stars, there are three dim stars which form a triangle. One star is a man, and the other two are woman. The Apache say that they had a love triangle on earth and when they died they agreed to meet at the spot where they still endure, and their love endures for all time, in the light of Capella.The eastern sky is a marvel, full of legend at this time of year. Auriga, the charioteer, joins with the bright stars of Elnath and Aldebaran to form the bull, Taurus, through which the Milky Way rises from horizon level and strikes out to the high southeast. Above and part of Taurus is the Pleiades star cluster. The Western Mono tell this story of the cluster.
'Six women had spent the day in their huts eating onions. When their husbands came home they couldn't abide the smell of their breaths nor of their gaseous emissions. Homeless, they wandered into the stars, and met together where they are still now. Their husbands looked for them, because onions smells were far easier to endure than loneliness or the guilt they felt for their heavy-handed punishment.'
The Maori say that the Pleiades are the seven left eyes of the seven chiefs, but will say no more. And in the eponymous legend they are the seven daughters of the Titan Atlas, the giant who was forever doomed to hold up the sky on his shoulders. Maia, Taygete, Celeno, Merope, Asterope, Alcyone and Electra escaped to their present position to avoid the impassioned advances of Orion, the hunter. And from May onwards, when the ladies of the Pleiades appear, the hunter pursues them across the northern skies.
To the northeast of Pleiades is Perseus, the pointy headed prince in European mythology, and to the northeast is Aries, the ram, also in the European canon. The surprise, however, lies in the southeastern middle sky. It is Cetus, the whale, bringer of the knowledge, distinguished by the bright star of Deneb Kaitos at its right extremity.
The southern sky was no less interesting. Cetus creeps into its left edge. Due south above the horizon is Grus, the crane, with the two bright stars of Beta Grus and Al Na'ir. Above Grus is the bright star Fomalhaut, and above that Aquarius, the water carrier, hiding behind a thin film of the Milky Way. The Milky Way fell away to the southwest, spreading a light silver film over Capricornus, the goat, which lay neatly beneath Aquarius.
The surprise lay on the southeastern horizon. Phoenix, identifiable by the bright star Ankaa, arose, just after sunset. Winter was coming, winter was coming, winter was coming. Phoenix is rising, over the city of Phoenix. Phoenix, born out of flame, the mysterious flame-bird is rising. Winter is coming.
The western sky, as every breath from the west always is, is complex. And at this auspicious time it was as complex as ever. Sagittarius, my constellation, archer or 'teapot', stood just above the southwest horizon with the bright light Nunki predominant. To its right were a star cloud and the Lagoon Nebulae separated by the snake-like progression of the Milky Way. Above this, also southwestern was Aquila, the eagle, with Altair shining brightly. The eagle is divinity itself. It communes with the great spirit, the Mother, high in the sky. On its underbelly it is pale, and on its wingtops it is dark. Its power was hard to harness, and could only be felt if one was dwelling in the spirit of the gods. Eagles - wedge-tailed eagles overflying the dry Outback of Australia, Uncle Sam's eagle dying in someone else's 'civilisation', and the condors picking at the garbage on a Bogota, Colombia, hillside.
i thought of my sky. The southern hemisphere sky was vastly different with the Southern Cross its pivot.
To the northwest, high in the sky from my vantage point on the Palo Verde, was Lyra, the small diamond lyre, with its happy star Vega. Below it was Hercules himself, known to all cultures who gained access to the ancient knowledge. Another globular cluster pinches its bottom right hand side, where the head of a fallen Hercules should lie. And below Himself is the Corona Borealis and Alphecca, just sitting above the northwest horizon.
Dead west, above the silhouetted sagauro on the horizon is the constellation of Ophicius, with resplendant Rasalhague. This is the serpent carrier of the Hopi and all of those 'that have gone', the wisest class of all civilizations. And all spin into one galaxy.
Hemispheres unite, south and north, east and west, and there is our earth. The butte Papago, the telescope i had climbed earlier in the day to place the dream-catcher, was silhouetted by the lights of Phoenix. There were stars missing, but not from above, they were shaded in the light of modernity.
[Ed: i think you get the picture - a successful treasure hunter makes an offering to something 'bigger' than his or her Self - you may be later forced to navigate by the stars.]
inanga](http://www.hogproductions.com/Street-Scenes/Roadside-Arizona/Papago/663210492_BEWQw-Ti-1.jpg "inanga > Make an Offering First
The Egyptian was as 'superstitious' as the Superstitions themselves, and his paleao-astronomical background led him to warn me: 'Make an offering first. The Mexican always makes one and 'he is still alive'.
In the days before i entered the Superstitions and took that fateful step across the trailhead at the entrance to Peralta Canyon, i made a trip to Papago Butte just south of Phoenix - on the above advice. i trusted the Egyptian knowing that his forebears had built the pyramids, a feat almost impossible today.
Papago is the Southwestern term for telescope. Many, many years ago when the first people came to the Southwest they came with the knowledge of the ancients carried in woven bags. There were men with knowledge of the water, and they knew where water could be found, where it could be channeled, when it would come in the form of rain or snow, and where it could be found in the ground. There were those that knew the magic chants that were used for every building, birth, death, wedding, all the calls to the ancestors and to the gods. There were healers, carvers, potters, seers, sages and prophets. And the astronomers among them were called the far-sighted as they could see far into the universe for the secrets of the year-cycle of death and rebirth. Their papago were imbued with magic power and could see far beyond. With the first bearers of the whale's knowlege came the astronomers.
i took 10 down as far as Maricopa Road - 347 on the map - and then passed through Gila River Indian Reservation. The gila monster is a ferocious reptile sacred to many tribes in this region (and i think it is somehow related to the Kiwi tuatara).
i turned down onto a straight dirt road which led up to the Palo Verde Mountains. i looked up at them, still bright red in the afternoon sun as i pulled the car up at the end of the road. It continued but at this point it was littered with discarded auto parts, rubber tyres and anything else that would provide a suitable target for weekend shooters. There were the remnants of drunk joy shoots with automatic, semi-automatic and loading weapons. Everything was peppered with bullet holes. Behind it lay a singular butte at the base of the Palo Verde.
i prepared the items i needed, including water, and started climbing from the base of Hidden Valley. There was no one to be seen and the air was quiet.
As i scrambled upwards i picked up a piece of nylon cord and put it in my pocket. At the top there was a lone tree, a stunted Arizona cypress. i took a dream-catcher out of my pack. It was commercially made and the feathers indicating the four points of the earth had been chemically dyed. It didn't matter. i took out the longest of my greenstone pendants, one about eight-inches long, and attached it to the base of the dream-catcher which i then hung from a bough of the stunted cypress.
i then took out a piece of conglomerate volcanic rock which i had picked up from Big Bay, New Zealand, and tied this to the base of the dream-catcher with the nylon cord. i stood back, gathered together twigs, leaves and grass and made a small fire. i then recited a prayer for the Mother goddess and another for the ancestors. It was the important day of All Hallow E'en. And elsewhere in the northern hemisphere groups of Wiccan were celebrating the shortest day, when the souls of the living could commune with the dead. And in myriad other cultures believers conferred with their dead, and in many places people visited the underworlds and otherworlds. And many children trick or treated at doors all over the world and dressed in the clothing of witches and demons, gods and devils, at the modern parody of this important annual occasion.
When i finished chanting i stepped back to take a look at my surroundings. There wasn't a cloud in the sky but the sun would soon set behind the Palo Verde Mountains. Just on the top of this hill it began to rain, and soon everything around, including my bag, was wet with the tears of the goddess. i went over to the backside of the butte. The earth was dry, for it hadn't rained here, and i descended into an arroyo which led into Hidden Valley.
The cloud had cleared from the butte and i could just make out the circle of the dream-catcher on the cypress. i clambered down through some thorny bushes and cactus into a rocky cliff edge riddled with caves. i crawled into one of the entrances and took out the eagle's talon and a rough hewn, water worn piece of pounamu (greenstone). Here within the belly of the earth mother, a one-time burial cave and haunt of the ancestors i left them, and took a small scoop of floor sand in return.
On the way down the track that led to the car, i passed another cave entrance that was pock-marked with rifle and pistol fire. i turned away from the car, went as far up into Hidden Valley to were I could spot an easy ascent point to the summits of the Palo Verdes. i negotiated my way through the rocks and cactus, and climbed up into the darkness. Every now and then i would be scratched by a cactus, but in the half-light i could spot the notorious cholla which left barbs in the skin, and took ten days to heal.
At the top of the Palo Verdes i slowly made my way to a high point. The sprawling mass of lights which was night-time Phoenix was to the north, as was the silhouette of the South Mountains. But it was the night sky which took my breath away. Looking due north i could see Polaris with Ursa Minor dipping to the northwest. Beneath it lay Ursa Major, the big dipper distinguished by the bright stars Aklaid, Mizar, Alioth and Dubhe zigzaging above the northwestern horizon.
The Navajo say that Black God put the revolving male Ursa Major and the revolving female Ursa Minor there. They chase each other for eternity around Polaris, the star that never moves, returning to the same position in the night sky on each day of this year, as it was the year before. Black God placed all the stars in the sky, he of night time and darkness. But the wily, cunning, stealthy Coyote was always playing tricks. Black God was slow, too slow for Coyote, so the impatient trickster took the star pouch from the god and through it into the sky, sprinkling the stars into patterns which stargazers, in all time onwards would recognise.
To the Zuni of New Mexico Ursa Major was the 'gourd with a handle', to western civilisation the 'big dipper'. To the Hopi of the three mesas it was a star sling or thrower which cast all stars as we see them in the sky. Sootuvipi contained the stars in its pouch before they were cast into the realm of Black God.
The Milky Way, best observed on this moonless night when the dead lived and the living died, was the creation of the Apache warrior gods. When they came to battle they spilt star seeds from their pouches and added this star band to both hemispheres, for balance in opposites.
To the northeast was the constellation of Auriga, the charioteer with the distinctive bright stars of Menkalinan and Capella. To the east of Capella, the brightest of the stars, there are three dim stars which form a triangle. One star is a man, and the other two are woman. The Apache say that they had a love triangle on earth and when they died they agreed to meet at the spot where they still endure, and their love endures for all time, in the light of Capella.The eastern sky is a marvel, full of legend at this time of year. Auriga, the charioteer, joins with the bright stars of Elnath and Aldebaran to form the bull, Taurus, through which the Milky Way rises from horizon level and strikes out to the high southeast. Above and part of Taurus is the Pleiades star cluster. The Western Mono tell this story of the cluster.
'Six women had spent the day in their huts eating onions. When their husbands came home they couldn't abide the smell of their breaths nor of their gaseous emissions. Homeless, they wandered into the stars, and met together where they are still now. Their husbands looked for them, because onions smells were far easier to endure than loneliness or the guilt they felt for their heavy-handed punishment.'
The Maori say that the Pleiades are the seven left eyes of the seven chiefs, but will say no more. And in the eponymous legend they are the seven daughters of the Titan Atlas, the giant who was forever doomed to hold up the sky on his shoulders. Maia, Taygete, Celeno, Merope, Asterope, Alcyone and Electra escaped to their present position to avoid the impassioned advances of Orion, the hunter. And from May onwards, when the ladies of the Pleiades appear, the hunter pursues them across the northern skies.
To the northeast of Pleiades is Perseus, the pointy headed prince in European mythology, and to the northeast is Aries, the ram, also in the European canon. The surprise, however, lies in the southeastern middle sky. It is Cetus, the whale, bringer of the knowledge, distinguished by the bright star of Deneb Kaitos at its right extremity.
The southern sky was no less interesting. Cetus creeps into its left edge. Due south above the horizon is Grus, the crane, with the two bright stars of Beta Grus and Al Na'ir. Above Grus is the bright star Fomalhaut, and above that Aquarius, the water carrier, hiding behind a thin film of the Milky Way. The Milky Way fell away to the southwest, spreading a light silver film over Capricornus, the goat, which lay neatly beneath Aquarius.
The surprise lay on the southeastern horizon. Phoenix, identifiable by the bright star Ankaa, arose, just after sunset. Winter was coming, winter was coming, winter was coming. Phoenix is rising, over the city of Phoenix. Phoenix, born out of flame, the mysterious flame-bird is rising. Winter is coming.
The western sky, as every breath from the west always is, is complex. And at this auspicious time it was as complex as ever. Sagittarius, my constellation, archer or 'teapot', stood just above the southwest horizon with the bright light Nunki predominant. To its right were a star cloud and the Lagoon Nebulae separated by the snake-like progression of the Milky Way. Above this, also southwestern was Aquila, the eagle, with Altair shining brightly. The eagle is divinity itself. It communes with the great spirit, the Mother, high in the sky. On its underbelly it is pale, and on its wingtops it is dark. Its power was hard to harness, and could only be felt if one was dwelling in the spirit of the gods. Eagles - wedge-tailed eagles overflying the dry Outback of Australia, Uncle Sam's eagle dying in someone else's 'civilisation', and the condors picking at the garbage on a Bogota, Colombia, hillside.
i thought of my sky. The southern hemisphere sky was vastly different with the Southern Cross its pivot.
To the northwest, high in the sky from my vantage point on the Palo Verde, was Lyra, the small diamond lyre, with its happy star Vega. Below it was Hercules himself, known to all cultures who gained access to the ancient knowledge. Another globular cluster pinches its bottom right hand side, where the head of a fallen Hercules should lie. And below Himself is the Corona Borealis and Alphecca, just sitting above the northwest horizon.
Dead west, above the silhouetted sagauro on the horizon is the constellation of Ophicius, with resplendant Rasalhague. This is the serpent carrier of the Hopi and all of those 'that have gone', the wisest class of all civilizations. And all spin into one galaxy.
Hemispheres unite, south and north, east and west, and there is our earth. The butte Papago, the telescope i had climbed earlier in the day to place the dream-catcher, was silhouetted by the lights of Phoenix. There were stars missing, but not from above, they were shaded in the light of modernity.
[Ed: i think you get the picture - a successful treasure hunter makes an offering to something 'bigger' than his or her Self - you may be later forced to navigate by the stars.]
inanga")
![inanga > Thoughts of the Egyptian
Remember that blue book that fell on the floor in front of me in the quaint little bookshop at Tortilla Flat, Az.
The following passage was uplifted from: 'The Circlestone: A Superstition Mountain Mystery', by James A Swanson and Thomas J Kollenborn (two men with boyish, cowboy mentalities, but two that dared to take a peek beyond ‘a pile of rocks’):
'On March 15, 1983, Kollenborn visited Casa Grande ruin to ask Henderson [Sam Henderson, Park Superintendent, Casa Grande National Monument, Coolidge, Arizona, graduate in Archaeology from Northern Arizona University] to accompany him on a trip to Circlestone to witness the summer solstice the following June. Henderson agreed, and on Monday, June 20, 1983, the first professional archaeologist to see Circlestone was on his way to the stone ruin.
Kollenborn and Henderson stayed at Reavis Ranch that night, where they met 'Arkie' Johnston who was spending some days in the high country, escaping the summer heat of the low desert. Johnston was invited to accompany them, and early the next morning the three rode toward Circlestone.
Upon their arrival at the site, they noticed the millions of coccinellidae beetles (lady bugs) that covered the area. Kollenborn commented that he had seen these bugs at Circlestone every year for the past six years that he had been at the site. Entomologists explain the phenomenon as the result of warm and cool air meeting or shearing over the ridge between Mound Mountain and Circlestone. This shear zone creates a temperature inversion that, in turn, provides a micro-climatic environment conducive to the mating and swarming of these insects.
Henderson walked around and through the site, noting every detail. Kollenborn waited with anticipation for his comments and finally asked him what his evaluation was. Henderson stated positively that Circlestone was a primitive Indian ruin, not a corral. Furthermore, he was of the opinion that Circlestone was probably celestially oriented and may have been used for religious ceremonies as well. Henderson also pointed out that the site could have served as a market or trading center. He stressed that it would be difficult to make any serious evaluations of Circlestone without its first being excavated. This would be impossible under the current status of the site. Circlestone is located in a Federal Wilderness Area and cannot be excavated according to the regulations of the Department of Agriculture.
They set up their Brunton Pocket Transit, a survey instrument on a tripod, to take solar sighting at various times during the day. Standing at the central axis of the stone circle at 9:45 am on June 21st 1983, their sighting did not reveal any new information. They did note that the intensity of the sun at this elevation on this date could have influenced the early builders to choose this site.
The real test was the noon sighting. If at noon the sun shone through the doorway in the outer wall and aligned with the doorway in the center structure, this would add evidence to strongly support the theory that the structure was celestially oriented.
At precisely noon on June 21st, the summer solstice, the sun did indeed shine directly through he outer door and align perfectly with the interior door. This is the first day of the calendrical summer, an event of tremendous significance to early agrarian cultures.
As they left Circlestone for Reavis Ranch that afternoon, Kollenborn was convinced that the time spent investigating Circlestone was more than worthwhile. Henderson's comments had bolstered Kollenborn's enthusiasm and deepened his interest in trying to gather more information on the stone circle.
On June 24, 1983, 'Arkie' Johnston, Sharon and Tom Kellenborn returned to Circlestone. The purpose of this trip was to recheck previous measurements to ensure accuracy. Using a steel tape, they remeasured the diameter at several points. They chained the circumference, both inside and outside the wall. They measured the width of the entrance, the width of the stone wall, and the height of the stone wall. Then they accurately measured the center portion of the circle where the square structure is located.
They tried to accurately determine the length of the two remaining radiating spokes. The other spokes had been all but erased by centuries of erosion. The measurements they took that day proved to be far more accurate than the original measurements taken with a ten-foot cloth tape in 1981.
As the three prepared to leave after a difficult day's work, they wondered if one day the mystery of Circlestone would be solved. Kollenborn dreamed of Circlestone being restored to its original grandeur, with visitors carefully examining its once-downed walls. From all over the world, people might come to see Circlestone, a masterpiece originally built with ancient construction techniques by a culture gone for centuries.
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the crashing sound of yet another falling stone.’
Dare i say it - you must try to get a copy of this wonderful book, full of treasure-hunting tips and tailored perfectly for the Superstitions.
inanga](http://www.hogproductions.com/Street-Scenes/Roadside-Arizona/Towards-Miners-Needle/661770553_xvGeH-Ti.jpg "inanga > Thoughts of the Egyptian
Remember that blue book that fell on the floor in front of me in the quaint little bookshop at Tortilla Flat, Az.
The following passage was uplifted from: 'The Circlestone: A Superstition Mountain Mystery', by James A Swanson and Thomas J Kollenborn (two men with boyish, cowboy mentalities, but two that dared to take a peek beyond ‘a pile of rocks’):
'On March 15, 1983, Kollenborn visited Casa Grande ruin to ask Henderson [Sam Henderson, Park Superintendent, Casa Grande National Monument, Coolidge, Arizona, graduate in Archaeology from Northern Arizona University] to accompany him on a trip to Circlestone to witness the summer solstice the following June. Henderson agreed, and on Monday, June 20, 1983, the first professional archaeologist to see Circlestone was on his way to the stone ruin.
Kollenborn and Henderson stayed at Reavis Ranch that night, where they met 'Arkie' Johnston who was spending some days in the high country, escaping the summer heat of the low desert. Johnston was invited to accompany them, and early the next morning the three rode toward Circlestone.
Upon their arrival at the site, they noticed the millions of coccinellidae beetles (lady bugs) that covered the area. Kollenborn commented that he had seen these bugs at Circlestone every year for the past six years that he had been at the site. Entomologists explain the phenomenon as the result of warm and cool air meeting or shearing over the ridge between Mound Mountain and Circlestone. This shear zone creates a temperature inversion that, in turn, provides a micro-climatic environment conducive to the mating and swarming of these insects.
Henderson walked around and through the site, noting every detail. Kollenborn waited with anticipation for his comments and finally asked him what his evaluation was. Henderson stated positively that Circlestone was a primitive Indian ruin, not a corral. Furthermore, he was of the opinion that Circlestone was probably celestially oriented and may have been used for religious ceremonies as well. Henderson also pointed out that the site could have served as a market or trading center. He stressed that it would be difficult to make any serious evaluations of Circlestone without its first being excavated. This would be impossible under the current status of the site. Circlestone is located in a Federal Wilderness Area and cannot be excavated according to the regulations of the Department of Agriculture.
They set up their Brunton Pocket Transit, a survey instrument on a tripod, to take solar sighting at various times during the day. Standing at the central axis of the stone circle at 9:45 am on June 21st 1983, their sighting did not reveal any new information. They did note that the intensity of the sun at this elevation on this date could have influenced the early builders to choose this site.
The real test was the noon sighting. If at noon the sun shone through the doorway in the outer wall and aligned with the doorway in the center structure, this would add evidence to strongly support the theory that the structure was celestially oriented.
At precisely noon on June 21st, the summer solstice, the sun did indeed shine directly through he outer door and align perfectly with the interior door. This is the first day of the calendrical summer, an event of tremendous significance to early agrarian cultures.
As they left Circlestone for Reavis Ranch that afternoon, Kollenborn was convinced that the time spent investigating Circlestone was more than worthwhile. Henderson's comments had bolstered Kollenborn's enthusiasm and deepened his interest in trying to gather more information on the stone circle.
On June 24, 1983, 'Arkie' Johnston, Sharon and Tom Kellenborn returned to Circlestone. The purpose of this trip was to recheck previous measurements to ensure accuracy. Using a steel tape, they remeasured the diameter at several points. They chained the circumference, both inside and outside the wall. They measured the width of the entrance, the width of the stone wall, and the height of the stone wall. Then they accurately measured the center portion of the circle where the square structure is located.
They tried to accurately determine the length of the two remaining radiating spokes. The other spokes had been all but erased by centuries of erosion. The measurements they took that day proved to be far more accurate than the original measurements taken with a ten-foot cloth tape in 1981.
As the three prepared to leave after a difficult day's work, they wondered if one day the mystery of Circlestone would be solved. Kollenborn dreamed of Circlestone being restored to its original grandeur, with visitors carefully examining its once-downed walls. From all over the world, people might come to see Circlestone, a masterpiece originally built with ancient construction techniques by a culture gone for centuries.
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the crashing sound of yet another falling stone.’
Dare i say it - you must try to get a copy of this wonderful book, full of treasure-hunting tips and tailored perfectly for the Superstitions.
inanga")
![inanga > Peralta Trailhead
The Mexican called this place the Wailing Wall, and avoided coming in this way on his treasure-hunting expedition because he liked the smell of Tortilla Flat. The Egyptian, now he was something else. For a start he didn't even have a visa for the States. One day, after a night out in Tijuana, he just jumped the border. He had drifted around many places in the southern states, especially the Four Corners. He had a tip about the Egyptian treasure in the Grand Canyon near the Temple of Isis and he was after that.
Some said the Grand Canyon underground city held a far greater treasure than the Superstitions, but that search will have to be another day. i suggest if you want to learn more about the tip given to the Egyptian you should read the article from the Arizona Gazette of 5 April 1909 mentioned in David Hatcher-Childress's article on the treasure. [Yahoo removed the original links that i placed and I don't know why - I am in the process of adding the information another way. Is it so sensitive that the Smithsonian Institution doesn't want it here?] In the meantime try: http://lightworkers.org/blog/83532/archeological-coverups-david-hatcher-childress-egyptian-cavesgrand-canyon
David is a seasoned treasure hunter and superb writer - he has stood at many Peralta Trailheads. This story accords carefully with the Prophecy of Masau'wu - the entry from the THIRD WORLD to the FOURTH WORLD and the preparations for the nirvana of the FIFTH WORLD. Take a virtual tour.
There are plenty of other 'tombs' yet to be opened. Hey - hold on there before you go to this feed - you are at Peralta Trailhead and we are going after treasure i know is there, because i have touched it. [I had another link here - also removed. Go to You-Tube and type in 'David + Hatcher + Childress + Grand Canyon' and you will get more and reference to the original newspaper article from the time of discovery.
What was it Nostradamus said:
'They will come to discover the hidden topography of the land,
The urns holding wisdom within the monuments opened up,
Their contents will cause the understanding of holy philosophy to expand greatly,
White exchanged for black, falsehoods exposed, new wisdom replacing the established traditions that no longer work.'
Nostrodamus, VII, 14.
[Ed note: The World Explorers Club has a fascinating website: http://wexclub.com/ i visited their offices in Lima, Peru, during a climbing trip to South America and got heaps of good information on the Inca Trails of Peru and Bolivia. You should look up these rich feeds if you are keen on the Holy Grail - we are going to do some basic triangulations later - nowhere near as complex as it is in Martin Doutre's excellent 'Ancient Celtic Aotearoa (New Zealand) website. If you are on this treasure hunt and haven't looked at the article on the Circlestone in Arizona on: http://www.celticnz.co.nz/Circlestone/Circlestone1.htm you must do so. The Circlestone is part of these triangulations:
Cahokia Observatory: http://www.cahokiamounds.com/ and http://www.jqjacobs.net/archaeo/cahokia.html. They have great events at this national monument and vortex spot - two of North America's most powerful rivers, the Missouri and Mississippi meet at this spot. Anyway here's an upcoming: North American Indian Photography Contest
The Opening Reception of the North American Indian Photography Contest & Exhibition will be held this Saturday, October 17. Attendees will have the opportunity to vote for the People's Choice Award, enjoy a wine tasting by PRP Wine International, pick up some great holiday gifts in the Silent Auction, experience the awards ceremony and be the first to view these great photographs.
The reception is free and open to the public. RSVP to 618-344-7316.
Prophecy Rock: http://www.crystalinks.com/hopistonetablets.html
Grand Canyon: America's Second Biggest Treasure Chest more to come...
Anubis Caves, Oklahoma http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GACRxUIp39s
Saguaro National Monument: http://www.nps.gov/sagu/index.htm
Ohio Serpent Mound: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serpent_Mound and http://greatserpentmound.com/
Casa Malpais: http://www.delange.org/CasaMalpais1/CasaMalpais.htm
Chaco Sun Dagger: www.solsticeproject.org/
Montezuma's Well: The clue is 'they concealed the place with water'. http://www.desertusa.com/mag98/aug/stories/montzwell.html
Petrified Forest http://www.nps.gov/pefo/index.htm [A warning to treasure hunters - leave this 'petrified wood' where it once stood proudly as trees.]
Tuzigoot: http://www.nps.gov/tuzi/index.htm
Montezuma Castle: http://www.nps.gov/moca/index.htm
Shoofly Ruins: http://www.matrixbookstore.biz/shoofly_ruins.htm
San Franciscan Peaks: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Francisco_Peaks [Ed: for more on the Franciscan Orders go to these links - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franciscan#Official_websites_of_the_three_branches_of_First_Order. There are many more describing bands of true Samaritans.]
Wupatki: http://www.nps.gov/Wupa/index.htm
Hole in the Rock, Papago Park, Phoenix: http://www.delange.org/HoleInRock/HoleRock.htm [In Hopi dialect papago = telescope - Ed.] and http://www.ci.phoenix.az.us/PARKS/hikepapa.html
Tonto Natural Bridge: http://azstateparks.com/Parks/TONA/index.html [I got hungry once and a la Bear Grills i remembered a tip i had learnt in the Army. Wherever hogs have been rooting up the ground dig for food. At Tonto there are javalina running wild and they are forever 'truffle hunting'. The truffles would look good on any platter anywhere in the world and cost a fortune. Just ask Gordon Ramsay - he promises not to say the 'F' word. 'Food'. I ate well the day i followed the javalina, and that night i ate 'barbeque' (BBQ pork from a deli in Payson) in homemade truffle oil. For more on Gordon: http://www.gordonramsay.com/]
Canyon de Chelly:http://www.nps.gov/cach/index.htm
McFarland http://azstateparks.com/Parks/MCFA/index.html [Ed: for more on Florence (Firenze) see 'Tuscany Painting Tour' in hogproductions.]
Newark Octagon: www.jqjacobs.net/archaeo/octagon.html and http://www.celticnz.co.nz/octaone.html.
Jerome: http://azstateparks.com/Parks/JERO/index.html
Circlestone: http://www.delange.org/Circlestone/Circlestone.htm
Arizona Meteor Crater: http://www.meteorcrater.com/ [Imagine 'standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona when this beauty came in...Anway hungry visits at the crater can get Subway. You might need some food with the aftershocks.]
Hubbell Trading Post: http://www.nps.gov/hutr/photosmultimedia/index.htm?eid=341430&root_aId=435#e_341430
Los Muertos, Tempe, near Phoenix (North American equivalent of Hyperborean shrine between Mts Ossa and Olympus in Greece). Apart from celebrating the Festival of Los Muertos, they have some interesting archaeological digs going on here and already some interesting stories have been discovered: www.books.google.co.nz/books?isbn=0520084683...
Organ Pipes Cactus: http://www.nps.gov/orpi/index.htm [This is classic Tohono o'Odham country - the best part of it was taken for the Barry Goldwater Bombing Range. There is a close correlation between these people and 'the language of the fingertips'. For Odham' read 'Ogham' - for the fullest explanation i have found of the finger language read Robert Grave's 'The White Goddess' - this is the absolute 101 course for dedicated treasure hunters.]
Sunset Crater http://www.nps.gov/sucr/index.htm [i 'salted' several pieces of pounamu and other semi-precious stones all around this park - i may get charged for 'litterin'' like Arlo Guthrie... but them is the breaks!
Another Ed note: more important Palaeoarcheological sites in this treasure hunt to be added here - watching Manchester United v Manchester City Derby 'football is the winner' - 4-3 to United.]](http://www.hogproductions.com/Street-Scenes/Roadside-Arizona/Goodbye-to-All-That/661127990_cyMyg-Ti.jpg "inanga > Peralta Trailhead
The Mexican called this place the Wailing Wall, and avoided coming in this way on his treasure-hunting expedition because he liked the smell of Tortilla Flat. The Egyptian, now he was something else. For a start he didn't even have a visa for the States. One day, after a night out in Tijuana, he just jumped the border. He had drifted around many places in the southern states, especially the Four Corners. He had a tip about the Egyptian treasure in the Grand Canyon near the Temple of Isis and he was after that.
Some said the Grand Canyon underground city held a far greater treasure than the Superstitions, but that search will have to be another day. i suggest if you want to learn more about the tip given to the Egyptian you should read the article from the Arizona Gazette of 5 April 1909 mentioned in David Hatcher-Childress's article on the treasure. [Yahoo removed the original links that i placed and I don't know why - I am in the process of adding the information another way. Is it so sensitive that the Smithsonian Institution doesn't want it here?] In the meantime try: http://lightworkers.org/blog/83532/archeological-coverups-david-hatcher-childress-egyptian-cavesgrand-canyon
David is a seasoned treasure hunter and superb writer - he has stood at many Peralta Trailheads. This story accords carefully with the Prophecy of Masau'wu - the entry from the THIRD WORLD to the FOURTH WORLD and the preparations for the nirvana of the FIFTH WORLD. Take a virtual tour.
There are plenty of other 'tombs' yet to be opened. Hey - hold on there before you go to this feed - you are at Peralta Trailhead and we are going after treasure i know is there, because i have touched it. [I had another link here - also removed. Go to You-Tube and type in 'David + Hatcher + Childress + Grand Canyon' and you will get more and reference to the original newspaper article from the time of discovery.
What was it Nostradamus said:
'They will come to discover the hidden topography of the land,
The urns holding wisdom within the monuments opened up,
Their contents will cause the understanding of holy philosophy to expand greatly,
White exchanged for black, falsehoods exposed, new wisdom replacing the established traditions that no longer work.'
Nostrodamus, VII, 14.
[Ed note: The World Explorers Club has a fascinating website: http://wexclub.com/ i visited their offices in Lima, Peru, during a climbing trip to South America and got heaps of good information on the Inca Trails of Peru and Bolivia. You should look up these rich feeds if you are keen on the Holy Grail - we are going to do some basic triangulations later - nowhere near as complex as it is in Martin Doutre's excellent 'Ancient Celtic Aotearoa (New Zealand) website. If you are on this treasure hunt and haven't looked at the article on the Circlestone in Arizona on: http://www.celticnz.co.nz/Circlestone/Circlestone1.htm you must do so. The Circlestone is part of these triangulations:
Cahokia Observatory: http://www.cahokiamounds.com/ and http://www.jqjacobs.net/archaeo/cahokia.html. They have great events at this national monument and vortex spot - two of North America's most powerful rivers, the Missouri and Mississippi meet at this spot. Anyway here's an upcoming: North American Indian Photography Contest
The Opening Reception of the North American Indian Photography Contest & Exhibition will be held this Saturday, October 17. Attendees will have the opportunity to vote for the People's Choice Award, enjoy a wine tasting by PRP Wine International, pick up some great holiday gifts in the Silent Auction, experience the awards ceremony and be the first to view these great photographs.
The reception is free and open to the public. RSVP to 618-344-7316.
Prophecy Rock: http://www.crystalinks.com/hopistonetablets.html
Grand Canyon: America's Second Biggest Treasure Chest more to come...
Anubis Caves, Oklahoma http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GACRxUIp39s
Saguaro National Monument: http://www.nps.gov/sagu/index.htm
Ohio Serpent Mound: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serpent_Mound and http://greatserpentmound.com/
Casa Malpais: http://www.delange.org/CasaMalpais1/CasaMalpais.htm
Chaco Sun Dagger: www.solsticeproject.org/
Montezuma's Well: The clue is 'they concealed the place with water'. http://www.desertusa.com/mag98/aug/stories/montzwell.html
Petrified Forest http://www.nps.gov/pefo/index.htm [A warning to treasure hunters - leave this 'petrified wood' where it once stood proudly as trees.]
Tuzigoot: http://www.nps.gov/tuzi/index.htm
Montezuma Castle: http://www.nps.gov/moca/index.htm
Shoofly Ruins: http://www.matrixbookstore.biz/shoofly_ruins.htm
San Franciscan Peaks: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Francisco_Peaks [Ed: for more on the Franciscan Orders go to these links - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franciscan#Official_websites_of_the_three_branches_of_First_Order. There are many more describing bands of true Samaritans.]
Wupatki: http://www.nps.gov/Wupa/index.htm
Hole in the Rock, Papago Park, Phoenix: http://www.delange.org/HoleInRock/HoleRock.htm [In Hopi dialect papago = telescope - Ed.] and http://www.ci.phoenix.az.us/PARKS/hikepapa.html
Tonto Natural Bridge: http://azstateparks.com/Parks/TONA/index.html [I got hungry once and a la Bear Grills i remembered a tip i had learnt in the Army. Wherever hogs have been rooting up the ground dig for food. At Tonto there are javalina running wild and they are forever 'truffle hunting'. The truffles would look good on any platter anywhere in the world and cost a fortune. Just ask Gordon Ramsay - he promises not to say the 'F' word. 'Food'. I ate well the day i followed the javalina, and that night i ate 'barbeque' (BBQ pork from a deli in Payson) in homemade truffle oil. For more on Gordon: http://www.gordonramsay.com/]
Canyon de Chelly:http://www.nps.gov/cach/index.htm
McFarland http://azstateparks.com/Parks/MCFA/index.html [Ed: for more on Florence (Firenze) see 'Tuscany Painting Tour' in hogproductions.]
Newark Octagon: www.jqjacobs.net/archaeo/octagon.html and http://www.celticnz.co.nz/octaone.html.
Jerome: http://azstateparks.com/Parks/JERO/index.html
Circlestone: http://www.delange.org/Circlestone/Circlestone.htm
Arizona Meteor Crater: http://www.meteorcrater.com/ [Imagine 'standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona when this beauty came in...Anway hungry visits at the crater can get Subway. You might need some food with the aftershocks.]
Hubbell Trading Post: http://www.nps.gov/hutr/photosmultimedia/index.htm?eid=341430&root_aId=435#e_341430
Los Muertos, Tempe, near Phoenix (North American equivalent of Hyperborean shrine between Mts Ossa and Olympus in Greece). Apart from celebrating the Festival of Los Muertos, they have some interesting archaeological digs going on here and already some interesting stories have been discovered: www.books.google.co.nz/books?isbn=0520084683...
Organ Pipes Cactus: http://www.nps.gov/orpi/index.htm [This is classic Tohono o'Odham country - the best part of it was taken for the Barry Goldwater Bombing Range. There is a close correlation between these people and 'the language of the fingertips'. For Odham' read 'Ogham' - for the fullest explanation i have found of the finger language read Robert Grave's 'The White Goddess' - this is the absolute 101 course for dedicated treasure hunters.]
Sunset Crater http://www.nps.gov/sucr/index.htm [i 'salted' several pieces of pounamu and other semi-precious stones all around this park - i may get charged for 'litterin'' like Arlo Guthrie... but them is the breaks!
Another Ed note: more important Palaeoarcheological sites in this treasure hunt to be added here - watching Manchester United v Manchester City Derby 'football is the winner' - 4-3 to United.]")
![inanga > The Treasure Hunting 'Game'
Downunder we call things the 'game'. In the essence of Ken Wilber, i suppose one of the minor secrets of life is immersing yourself in the 'game'. And for Phoenicians we call the activity of 24th and W van Buren the 'game' downunder, but it is in no way related to this one.
The Mexican prefers chess to Mu Torere because he treats life as a 'game' of 3-D chess. Best put in poetry: - BEEHIVE CHESS
Eight elected pawns
Moved forward
In eight straight lines
Each dreaming
To be a Queen.
A new Helen of Troy
Ever-ready to protect
Her idle drone King.
He - who only moves
In all directions, certainly...
Yes, diagonally
Straight-forward
But only one pace
At a time -
Except when
He hides shivering,
Behind castle walls.
The two knights
Rode out boldly
Stepping over pawns
One step forward
One step diagonal
Both constant sources
Of deathly surprise.
The intent bishops
Red-robed and resplendent
Sprinkled holy water
In their directed paths
Before the diagonal charge
At the sound
Of Jericho's trumpeting barrage.
The Queen Bee prowled
Like any chess board tigress
Left and right
Front and center
Up to eight squares
Covered at any time
No sense of rhyme
Just straight out
Defence and attack
Sideways and back
With devastating intention.
Check!
'Sorry mate, Checkmate!
Think that was fun.
You were 'Fool's' mated
Your strategies are undone'.
'Yeah, inanga, bet
You feel like a dunce,
Wait till you try
Three opponents at once...'
[Ed note: Dedicated to Queen Bee Linda, Little John and and other Robins in their 'hood' for inventing 3-D Chess. When their feed is live: www.waterwizards.co.nz - you should be able to order their 3-D board (that requires three human players and and 36 pieces. Needless to say, no one beats the Mexican at 3-D Chess... Ed further note: Site not live but when it is it will have details of Nicolai Tesla, Viktor Schauberger and 'vortex' technology utilising implosion. If it is not the site mentioned above then it was not the one intended for readers of this.]
inanga](http://www.hogproductions.com/Street-Scenes/Roadside-Arizona/Miners-Needle/660993593_qJHbT-Ti.jpg "inanga > The Treasure Hunting 'Game'
Downunder we call things the 'game'. In the essence of Ken Wilber, i suppose one of the minor secrets of life is immersing yourself in the 'game'. And for Phoenicians we call the activity of 24th and W van Buren the 'game' downunder, but it is in no way related to this one.
The Mexican prefers chess to Mu Torere because he treats life as a 'game' of 3-D chess. Best put in poetry: - BEEHIVE CHESS
Eight elected pawns
Moved forward
In eight straight lines
Each dreaming
To be a Queen.
A new Helen of Troy
Ever-ready to protect
Her idle drone King.
He - who only moves
In all directions, certainly...
Yes, diagonally
Straight-forward
But only one pace
At a time -
Except when
He hides shivering,
Behind castle walls.
The two knights
Rode out boldly
Stepping over pawns
One step forward
One step diagonal
Both constant sources
Of deathly surprise.
The intent bishops
Red-robed and resplendent
Sprinkled holy water
In their directed paths
Before the diagonal charge
At the sound
Of Jericho's trumpeting barrage.
The Queen Bee prowled
Like any chess board tigress
Left and right
Front and center
Up to eight squares
Covered at any time
No sense of rhyme
Just straight out
Defence and attack
Sideways and back
With devastating intention.
Check!
'Sorry mate, Checkmate!
Think that was fun.
You were 'Fool's' mated
Your strategies are undone'.
'Yeah, inanga, bet
You feel like a dunce,
Wait till you try
Three opponents at once...'
[Ed note: Dedicated to Queen Bee Linda, Little John and and other Robins in their 'hood' for inventing 3-D Chess. When their feed is live: www.waterwizards.co.nz - you should be able to order their 3-D board (that requires three human players and and 36 pieces. Needless to say, no one beats the Mexican at 3-D Chess... Ed further note: Site not live but when it is it will have details of Nicolai Tesla, Viktor Schauberger and 'vortex' technology utilising implosion. If it is not the site mentioned above then it was not the one intended for readers of this.]
inanga")
Head to Whiskey Spring
'Are you alone?'
I answered carefully:
'No there are two others. They aren't far behind me.'
'Oh, there they are' one of the hikers pointed.
I turned and saw two figures in the distance. it was my pursuers. They waved to me, happy that I was leaving in the direction they had told me to. I waved back and continued down into Peralta Canyon, past the so-called Geronimo's Cave towards the road head. I was thoroughly determined to move back into the Superstitions at the earliest opportunity. When I emerged at the Peralta road head my pursuers would have expected me to go out to highway 60 via the access road.
I borrowed some water and sat down to prepare a hot drink of tea. Not far from me was Don's Camp but I had no intention of going in that direction. I packed up and proceeded east along the Dutchman's Trail towards Miner's Needle and Coffee Flat. Just before dusk I sneaked well off the trail to make camp, at a point where the Dutchman's and Coffee Flat trails met. It was a well concealed spot but all around the desert floor were patches of hedgehog cactus. I emptied the barbs of other cacti from my boots and started to prepare something to eat. As usual a piece of fruit, usually an orange, and some beef jerky. I shooed away some Walapai Tiger kissing bugs and some millipedes and lay down with my only my thoughts.
Tomorrow I would start to return to Weaver's Needle via the Dutchman's Trail and whatever shortcuts I found. Water would not be a problem as I would pass Bluff Spring, Oak Spring, La Barge Spring, an unnamed spring in Music Canyon and Charlebois Spring on the way to Needle Canyon. I pondered the location of the watchers. If they watched over the Massacre Grounds then what other parts of the Superstition Wilderness did they watch over?
As I lay looking at the clear sky i heard a voice.
'Over here.'
I turned and looked. It was an old Native American. He had a black cowboy hat covering his long silver and black hair,and a toothless smile.
I got up and walked towards him.
'You have had a little trouble in there' he said as he pointed to the northwest.
'Yes I must confess.'
'But you are going back. Can I ask why?'
'I don't really know.'
'You after the treasure?'
'I am not sure. If I found it I would leave it where it was, satisfied that I had found it.'
'You raven totem?'
His question surprised me.
'I was given a raven once.'
'You look raven totem.'
He sat down near my small fire and for several minutes said nothing. Then he spoke.
'Don't head to Needle. Your answer is not there, is it?'
'I don't know.'
'Raven totem is not at the Needle. You must go northeast from Whiskey Spring beyond Picacho Butte and Coffee Flat Mountains. There is no trail. The spirit of the raven will guide you. It is dangerous there and few trails. But you will know where to go. There will be watchers who know what you are doing. Watchers like those at Shoofly.'
His comment surprised me initially. But then I thought that in this abnormal world of spirit there were always surprises. I was getting used to them.
'Were you at Shoofly?'
'No, but I know that you were there. I know you were at Tonto Bridge also. Some say you were at Casa Grande. You leave the stone, the stone of our forefathers, in the rivers. My people know you are searching. You find marker in Willow Canyon.'
'I have been watched all along I guess.'
'Yes, we wait for stone carriers to come. They sent by the ancestors. They know we are all related. From all four corners of the earth. They know of flood of long ago when the Tohono o'Odham gave us the secrets of water. We not want the gold, only peace.'
'And you sir. What is your tribe?'
'It is same as yours. Tohono. I live on second mesa with the Hopi, our relatives.'
'I am Tohono?'
'Yes. Your people were Tohono but from a different earth corner. There is no difference. We are one and same.'
'Would you like tea?'
'Yes.'
I poured him some tea and he sipped at it. I learnt in later conversation that he was a shaman of the Long Hair Kachinas, and that he was here to specifically tell me that I must search beyond the Lost Dutchman legend. The answer was not there. He sang:
'At the edge of a cornfield a bird will sing with them
in the oneness of their happiness.
So they will sing together in tune with the universal power,
in harmony with the one creator of all things.
And the bird song,
And the people's song,
And the song of life will become one.'
I listened as he sang it over and over and I fell into an almost trance-like state. We talked long into the night, stoking the fire regularly to keep us warm. He produced a pipe of Arizona pipestone and he stuffed it with Native tobacco.
'Spirit rises with the smoke. Spirit joins in our hearts as we take in the smoke. The smoke is mixed in you and I. Now all spirits watch over you. See you safe to the end of this journey. Start you on a new journey and watch you then. Tomorrow I take you to Picacho Butte and show you the direction of your journey. Stay on the path I show you and you will come to the place chosen for you. Journey will not end there. A new journey begins there. Journey of the stone carrier is neverending. It goes also into the spirit world, beyond what we see. You will find the circle of life and meaning beyond your years. very old secret will unfold for you.'
He was foretelling what he thought would happen to me, but his words became even more cryptic.
'Snake wind through valley. Earthquake thrown trees and rocks down. Many die. Snake he finds apple tree and offers it to people of the river. River people are undecided. There are fish in the river. Snake writhes at center of his body, twists and turns. Twists and turns. It steals into the darkness of the valley. The fish lurk at bottom of the stream. Dead meat on ground where hawk flies overhead. Hawk looking. Snake gets tired. Snake unwinding. Hawk waits for it to die. Silence. Snake not moving. Snake spirit on journey. Hawk strikes at snake not moving. Hawk is eating. But snake spirit gone long ago to far off place. In new body same snake. Snake on wall twists in many places. far off places. Same snake each time. Same snake each time. Four corners of the world, and underworld, same snake spirit.'
I opened my bag and took out a greenstone pendant. Rubec had told me it was a grandfather stone. I gave it to the old man. Toby was his English name, from Tobias. He thanked me and then gave me a small plastic bag with seven pieces of azurite.
'The medicine. For entry into life circle.'
We both fell asleep. When I woke Toby was preparing a herbal drink.
'For strength. You will need for your journey.'
I drank the cup he offered without question. I had no idea of its ingredients. He produced a small leather pouch.
'Inside is medicine. You have just drunk it. There is enough in bag for journey.'
He pinched a small amount between his thumb and forefinger and showed me how much to brew. I was starting to feel high, but not in a stoned sense. My feet felt light on the ground and I felt tall as if I could take giant strides. I imagined this is how I would feel if I was subject only to the moon's gravity.'
background: detail from 'Let Me Pass!, Kosovo' by inanga
courtesy of Google Earth, Panoramio, Picasa 3, SmugMug, Google and Mozilla Firefox 2009
'Are you alone?'
I answered carefully:
'No there are two others. They aren't far behind me.'
'Oh, there they are' one of the hikers pointed.
I turned and saw two figures in the distance. it was my pursuers. They waved to me, happy that I was leaving in the direction they had told me to. I waved back and continued down into Peralta Canyon, past the so-called Geronimo's Cave towards the road head. I was thoroughly determined to move back into the Superstitions at the earliest opportunity. When I emerged at the Peralta road head my pursuers would have expected me to go out to highway 60 via the access road.
I borrowed some water and sat down to prepare a hot drink of tea. Not far from me was Don's Camp but I had no intention of going in that direction. I packed up and proceeded east along the Dutchman's Trail towards Miner's Needle and Coffee Flat. Just before dusk I sneaked well off the trail to make camp, at a point where the Dutchman's and Coffee Flat trails met. It was a well concealed spot but all around the desert floor were patches of hedgehog cactus. I emptied the barbs of other cacti from my boots and started to prepare something to eat. As usual a piece of fruit, usually an orange, and some beef jerky. I shooed away some Walapai Tiger kissing bugs and some millipedes and lay down with my only my thoughts.
Tomorrow I would start to return to Weaver's Needle via the Dutchman's Trail and whatever shortcuts I found. Water would not be a problem as I would pass Bluff Spring, Oak Spring, La Barge Spring, an unnamed spring in Music Canyon and Charlebois Spring on the way to Needle Canyon. I pondered the location of the watchers. If they watched over the Massacre Grounds then what other parts of the Superstition Wilderness did they watch over?
As I lay looking at the clear sky i heard a voice.
'Over here.'
I turned and looked. It was an old Native American. He had a black cowboy hat covering his long silver and black hair,and a toothless smile.
I got up and walked towards him.
'You have had a little trouble in there' he said as he pointed to the northwest.
'Yes I must confess.'
'But you are going back. Can I ask why?'
'I don't really know.'
'You after the treasure?'
'I am not sure. If I found it I would leave it where it was, satisfied that I had found it.'
'You raven totem?'
His question surprised me.
'I was given a raven once.'
'You look raven totem.'
He sat down near my small fire and for several minutes said nothing. Then he spoke.
'Don't head to Needle. Your answer is not there, is it?'
'I don't know.'
'Raven totem is not at the Needle. You must go northeast from Whiskey Spring beyond Picacho Butte and Coffee Flat Mountains. There is no trail. The spirit of the raven will guide you. It is dangerous there and few trails. But you will know where to go. There will be watchers who know what you are doing. Watchers like those at Shoofly.'
His comment surprised me initially. But then I thought that in this abnormal world of spirit there were always surprises. I was getting used to them.
'Were you at Shoofly?'
'No, but I know that you were there. I know you were at Tonto Bridge also. Some say you were at Casa Grande. You leave the stone, the stone of our forefathers, in the rivers. My people know you are searching. You find marker in Willow Canyon.'
'I have been watched all along I guess.'
'Yes, we wait for stone carriers to come. They sent by the ancestors. They know we are all related. From all four corners of the earth. They know of flood of long ago when the Tohono o'Odham gave us the secrets of water. We not want the gold, only peace.'
'And you sir. What is your tribe?'
'It is same as yours. Tohono. I live on second mesa with the Hopi, our relatives.'
'I am Tohono?'
'Yes. Your people were Tohono but from a different earth corner. There is no difference. We are one and same.'
'Would you like tea?'
'Yes.'
I poured him some tea and he sipped at it. I learnt in later conversation that he was a shaman of the Long Hair Kachinas, and that he was here to specifically tell me that I must search beyond the Lost Dutchman legend. The answer was not there. He sang:
'At the edge of a cornfield a bird will sing with them
in the oneness of their happiness.
So they will sing together in tune with the universal power,
in harmony with the one creator of all things.
And the bird song,
And the people's song,
And the song of life will become one.'
I listened as he sang it over and over and I fell into an almost trance-like state. We talked long into the night, stoking the fire regularly to keep us warm. He produced a pipe of Arizona pipestone and he stuffed it with Native tobacco.
'Spirit rises with the smoke. Spirit joins in our hearts as we take in the smoke. The smoke is mixed in you and I. Now all spirits watch over you. See you safe to the end of this journey. Start you on a new journey and watch you then. Tomorrow I take you to Picacho Butte and show you the direction of your journey. Stay on the path I show you and you will come to the place chosen for you. Journey will not end there. A new journey begins there. Journey of the stone carrier is neverending. It goes also into the spirit world, beyond what we see. You will find the circle of life and meaning beyond your years. very old secret will unfold for you.'
He was foretelling what he thought would happen to me, but his words became even more cryptic.
'Snake wind through valley. Earthquake thrown trees and rocks down. Many die. Snake he finds apple tree and offers it to people of the river. River people are undecided. There are fish in the river. Snake writhes at center of his body, twists and turns. Twists and turns. It steals into the darkness of the valley. The fish lurk at bottom of the stream. Dead meat on ground where hawk flies overhead. Hawk looking. Snake gets tired. Snake unwinding. Hawk waits for it to die. Silence. Snake not moving. Snake spirit on journey. Hawk strikes at snake not moving. Hawk is eating. But snake spirit gone long ago to far off place. In new body same snake. Snake on wall twists in many places. far off places. Same snake each time. Same snake each time. Four corners of the world, and underworld, same snake spirit.'
I opened my bag and took out a greenstone pendant. Rubec had told me it was a grandfather stone. I gave it to the old man. Toby was his English name, from Tobias. He thanked me and then gave me a small plastic bag with seven pieces of azurite.
'The medicine. For entry into life circle.'
We both fell asleep. When I woke Toby was preparing a herbal drink.
'For strength. You will need for your journey.'
I drank the cup he offered without question. I had no idea of its ingredients. He produced a small leather pouch.
'Inside is medicine. You have just drunk it. There is enough in bag for journey.'
He pinched a small amount between his thumb and forefinger and showed me how much to brew. I was starting to feel high, but not in a stoned sense. My feet felt light on the ground and I felt tall as if I could take giant strides. I imagined this is how I would feel if I was subject only to the moon's gravity.'
background: detail from 'Let Me Pass!, Kosovo' by inanga
courtesy of Google Earth, Panoramio, Picasa 3, SmugMug, Google and Mozilla Firefox 2009
Head to Whiskey Spring
'Are you alone?'
I answered carefully:
'No there are two others. They aren't far behind me.'
'Oh, there they are' one of the hikers pointed.
I turned and saw two figures in the distance. it was my pursuers. They waved to me, happy that I was leaving in the direction they had told me to. I waved back and continued down into Peralta Canyon, past the so-called Geronimo's Cave towards the road head. I was thoroughly determined to move back into the Superstitions at the earliest opportunity. When I emerged at the Peralta road head my pursuers would have expected me to go out to highway 60 via the access road.
I borrowed some water and sat down to prepare a hot drink of tea. Not far from me was Don's Camp but I had no intention of going in that direction. I packed up and proceeded east along the Dutchman's Trail towards Miner's Needle and Coffee Flat. Just before dusk I sneaked well off the trail to make camp, at a point where the Dutchman's and Coffee Flat trails met. It was a well concealed spot but all around the desert floor were patches of hedgehog cactus. I emptied the barbs of other cacti from my boots and started to prepare something to eat. As usual a piece of fruit, usually an orange, and some beef jerky. I shooed away some Walapai Tiger kissing bugs and some millipedes and lay down with my only my thoughts.
Tomorrow I would start to return to Weaver's Needle via the Dutchman's Trail and whatever shortcuts I found. Water would not be a problem as I would pass Bluff Spring, Oak Spring, La Barge Spring, an unnamed spring in Music Canyon and Charlebois Spring on the way to Needle Canyon. I pondered the location of the watchers. If they watched over the Massacre Grounds then what other parts of the Superstition Wilderness did they watch over?
As I lay looking at the clear sky i heard a voice.
'Over here.'
I turned and looked. It was an old Native American. He had a black cowboy hat covering his long silver and black hair,and a toothless smile.
I got up and walked towards him.
'You have had a little trouble in there' he said as he pointed to the northwest.
'Yes I must confess.'
'But you are going back. Can I ask why?'
'I don't really know.'
'You after the treasure?'
'I am not sure. If I found it I would leave it where it was, satisfied that I had found it.'
'You raven totem?'
His question surprised me.
'I was given a raven once.'
'You look raven totem.'
He sat down near my small fire and for several minutes said nothing. Then he spoke.
'Don't head to Needle. Your answer is not there, is it?'
'I don't know.'
'Raven totem is not at the Needle. You must go northeast from Whiskey Spring beyond Picacho Butte and Coffee Flat Mountains. There is no trail. The spirit of the raven will guide you. It is dangerous there and few trails. But you will know where to go. There will be watchers who know what you are doing. Watchers like those at Shoofly.'
His comment surprised me initially. But then I thought that in this abnormal world of spirit there were always surprises. I was getting used to them.
'Were you at Shoofly?'
'No, but I know that you were there. I know you were at Tonto Bridge also. Some say you were at Casa Grande. You leave the stone, the stone of our forefathers, in the rivers. My people know you are searching. You find marker in Willow Canyon.'
'I have been watched all along I guess.'
'Yes, we wait for stone carriers to come. They sent by the ancestors. They know we are all related. From all four corners of the earth. They know of flood of long ago when the Tohono o'Odham gave us the secrets of water. We not want the gold, only peace.'
'And you sir. What is your tribe?'
'It is same as yours. Tohono. I live on second mesa with the Hopi, our relatives.'
'I am Tohono?'
'Yes. Your people were Tohono but from a different earth corner. There is no difference. We are one and same.'
'Would you like tea?'
'Yes.'
I poured him some tea and he sipped at it. I learnt in later conversation that he was a shaman of the Long Hair Kachinas, and that he was here to specifically tell me that I must search beyond the Lost Dutchman legend. The answer was not there. He sang:
'At the edge of a cornfield a bird will sing with them
in the oneness of their happiness.
So they will sing together in tune with the universal power,
in harmony with the one creator of all things.
And the bird song,
And the people's song,
And the song of life will become one.'
I listened as he sang it over and over and I fell into an almost trance-like state. We talked long into the night, stoking the fire regularly to keep us warm. He produced a pipe of Arizona pipestone and he stuffed it with Native tobacco.
'Spirit rises with the smoke. Spirit joins in our hearts as we take in the smoke. The smoke is mixed in you and I. Now all spirits watch over you. See you safe to the end of this journey. Start you on a new journey and watch you then. Tomorrow I take you to Picacho Butte and show you the direction of your journey. Stay on the path I show you and you will come to the place chosen for you. Journey will not end there. A new journey begins there. Journey of the stone carrier is neverending. It goes also into the spirit world, beyond what we see. You will find the circle of life and meaning beyond your years. very old secret will unfold for you.'
He was foretelling what he thought would happen to me, but his words became even more cryptic.
'Snake wind through valley. Earthquake thrown trees and rocks down. Many die. Snake he finds apple tree and offers it to people of the river. River people are undecided. There are fish in the river. Snake writhes at center of his body, twists and turns. Twists and turns. It steals into the darkness of the valley. The fish lurk at bottom of the stream. Dead meat on ground where hawk flies overhead. Hawk looking. Snake gets tired. Snake unwinding. Hawk waits for it to die. Silence. Snake not moving. Snake spirit on journey. Hawk strikes at snake not moving. Hawk is eating. But snake spirit gone long ago to far off place. In new body same snake. Snake on wall twists in many places. far off places. Same snake each time. Same snake each time. Four corners of the world, and underworld, same snake spirit.'
I opened my bag and took out a greenstone pendant. Rubec had told me it was a grandfather stone. I gave it to the old man. Toby was his English name, from Tobias. He thanked me and then gave me a small plastic bag with seven pieces of azurite.
'The medicine. For entry into life circle.'
We both fell asleep. When I woke Toby was preparing a herbal drink.
'For strength. You will need for your journey.'
I drank the cup he offered without question. I had no idea of its ingredients. He produced a small leather pouch.
'Inside is medicine. You have just drunk it. There is enough in bag for journey.'
He pinched a small amount between his thumb and forefinger and showed me how much to brew. I was starting to feel high, but not in a stoned sense. My feet felt light on the ground and I felt tall as if I could take giant strides. I imagined this is how I would feel if I was subject only to the moon's gravity.'
background: detail from 'Let Me Pass!, Kosovo' by inanga
courtesy of Google Earth, Panoramio, Picasa 3, SmugMug, Google and Mozilla Firefox 2009
'Are you alone?'
I answered carefully:
'No there are two others. They aren't far behind me.'
'Oh, there they are' one of the hikers pointed.
I turned and saw two figures in the distance. it was my pursuers. They waved to me, happy that I was leaving in the direction they had told me to. I waved back and continued down into Peralta Canyon, past the so-called Geronimo's Cave towards the road head. I was thoroughly determined to move back into the Superstitions at the earliest opportunity. When I emerged at the Peralta road head my pursuers would have expected me to go out to highway 60 via the access road.
I borrowed some water and sat down to prepare a hot drink of tea. Not far from me was Don's Camp but I had no intention of going in that direction. I packed up and proceeded east along the Dutchman's Trail towards Miner's Needle and Coffee Flat. Just before dusk I sneaked well off the trail to make camp, at a point where the Dutchman's and Coffee Flat trails met. It was a well concealed spot but all around the desert floor were patches of hedgehog cactus. I emptied the barbs of other cacti from my boots and started to prepare something to eat. As usual a piece of fruit, usually an orange, and some beef jerky. I shooed away some Walapai Tiger kissing bugs and some millipedes and lay down with my only my thoughts.
Tomorrow I would start to return to Weaver's Needle via the Dutchman's Trail and whatever shortcuts I found. Water would not be a problem as I would pass Bluff Spring, Oak Spring, La Barge Spring, an unnamed spring in Music Canyon and Charlebois Spring on the way to Needle Canyon. I pondered the location of the watchers. If they watched over the Massacre Grounds then what other parts of the Superstition Wilderness did they watch over?
As I lay looking at the clear sky i heard a voice.
'Over here.'
I turned and looked. It was an old Native American. He had a black cowboy hat covering his long silver and black hair,and a toothless smile.
I got up and walked towards him.
'You have had a little trouble in there' he said as he pointed to the northwest.
'Yes I must confess.'
'But you are going back. Can I ask why?'
'I don't really know.'
'You after the treasure?'
'I am not sure. If I found it I would leave it where it was, satisfied that I had found it.'
'You raven totem?'
His question surprised me.
'I was given a raven once.'
'You look raven totem.'
He sat down near my small fire and for several minutes said nothing. Then he spoke.
'Don't head to Needle. Your answer is not there, is it?'
'I don't know.'
'Raven totem is not at the Needle. You must go northeast from Whiskey Spring beyond Picacho Butte and Coffee Flat Mountains. There is no trail. The spirit of the raven will guide you. It is dangerous there and few trails. But you will know where to go. There will be watchers who know what you are doing. Watchers like those at Shoofly.'
His comment surprised me initially. But then I thought that in this abnormal world of spirit there were always surprises. I was getting used to them.
'Were you at Shoofly?'
'No, but I know that you were there. I know you were at Tonto Bridge also. Some say you were at Casa Grande. You leave the stone, the stone of our forefathers, in the rivers. My people know you are searching. You find marker in Willow Canyon.'
'I have been watched all along I guess.'
'Yes, we wait for stone carriers to come. They sent by the ancestors. They know we are all related. From all four corners of the earth. They know of flood of long ago when the Tohono o'Odham gave us the secrets of water. We not want the gold, only peace.'
'And you sir. What is your tribe?'
'It is same as yours. Tohono. I live on second mesa with the Hopi, our relatives.'
'I am Tohono?'
'Yes. Your people were Tohono but from a different earth corner. There is no difference. We are one and same.'
'Would you like tea?'
'Yes.'
I poured him some tea and he sipped at it. I learnt in later conversation that he was a shaman of the Long Hair Kachinas, and that he was here to specifically tell me that I must search beyond the Lost Dutchman legend. The answer was not there. He sang:
'At the edge of a cornfield a bird will sing with them
in the oneness of their happiness.
So they will sing together in tune with the universal power,
in harmony with the one creator of all things.
And the bird song,
And the people's song,
And the song of life will become one.'
I listened as he sang it over and over and I fell into an almost trance-like state. We talked long into the night, stoking the fire regularly to keep us warm. He produced a pipe of Arizona pipestone and he stuffed it with Native tobacco.
'Spirit rises with the smoke. Spirit joins in our hearts as we take in the smoke. The smoke is mixed in you and I. Now all spirits watch over you. See you safe to the end of this journey. Start you on a new journey and watch you then. Tomorrow I take you to Picacho Butte and show you the direction of your journey. Stay on the path I show you and you will come to the place chosen for you. Journey will not end there. A new journey begins there. Journey of the stone carrier is neverending. It goes also into the spirit world, beyond what we see. You will find the circle of life and meaning beyond your years. very old secret will unfold for you.'
He was foretelling what he thought would happen to me, but his words became even more cryptic.
'Snake wind through valley. Earthquake thrown trees and rocks down. Many die. Snake he finds apple tree and offers it to people of the river. River people are undecided. There are fish in the river. Snake writhes at center of his body, twists and turns. Twists and turns. It steals into the darkness of the valley. The fish lurk at bottom of the stream. Dead meat on ground where hawk flies overhead. Hawk looking. Snake gets tired. Snake unwinding. Hawk waits for it to die. Silence. Snake not moving. Snake spirit on journey. Hawk strikes at snake not moving. Hawk is eating. But snake spirit gone long ago to far off place. In new body same snake. Snake on wall twists in many places. far off places. Same snake each time. Same snake each time. Four corners of the world, and underworld, same snake spirit.'
I opened my bag and took out a greenstone pendant. Rubec had told me it was a grandfather stone. I gave it to the old man. Toby was his English name, from Tobias. He thanked me and then gave me a small plastic bag with seven pieces of azurite.
'The medicine. For entry into life circle.'
We both fell asleep. When I woke Toby was preparing a herbal drink.
'For strength. You will need for your journey.'
I drank the cup he offered without question. I had no idea of its ingredients. He produced a small leather pouch.
'Inside is medicine. You have just drunk it. There is enough in bag for journey.'
He pinched a small amount between his thumb and forefinger and showed me how much to brew. I was starting to feel high, but not in a stoned sense. My feet felt light on the ground and I felt tall as if I could take giant strides. I imagined this is how I would feel if I was subject only to the moon's gravity.'
background: detail from 'Let Me Pass!, Kosovo' by inanga
courtesy of Google Earth, Panoramio, Picasa 3, SmugMug, Google and Mozilla Firefox 2009
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Original size: 5120px x 3840px |
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