34 



AMERICAN FORESTRY 



A SNOWBANK IN JULY 



Snow can be seen in the crevices of the Sangre de Cristos any month of the year. High in the 

 mountains it stays in patches many feet deep during the entire summer. 



eaten by lamp light, of the scary canon 

 road, was whisked away by this flood of 

 splendid nature harmony which con- 

 fronted us. 



I like to think that this morning we 

 traversed the same route traveled by the 

 early Spanish adventurers, who gave 

 the name to the Sangre de Cristos. 

 Legend tells of this christening. Years 

 ago before white settlements had been 

 made on our eastern shores Spanish ex- 

 plorers carried to the City of Mexico 

 news of a mythical city, Quivira. In 

 this city gold was a common metal, and 

 gems of rare qualities were many. Ad- 

 venturous spirits among the Spanish con- 

 querors traveled through many miles of 

 territory infested with Indian foes, try- 

 ing to find this new land which to 

 them meant a new Peru to conquest. 



tain range in its happy morning mood. Three of us 

 composing the remainder of the party, included a captain 

 of engineers of the American Expeditionary Forces, my 

 wife, and myself. The dusky dawn had seen us swing 

 along a canon road, past sheer cliffs and tree covered 

 slopes so we might get this view as the Supervisor had 

 planned. All remembrance of early rising, of breakfast 



THE SIERRA BLANCA, FROM THE TIMBERLINE 



At the southern end of this magnificent range stands the fifth highest 

 peak in the United States. Around its shoulders hang nine lakes and 

 from its sides, course many" streams flecked with cascades and falls. 

 Few peaks in the nation offer the strenuous test of mountain climbing 

 which Blanca presents. To climb to the top of this monarch is a feat 

 for an expert mountain climber. 



SANGRE DE CRISTO PEAKS AND THE QUIET VALLEY 

 I 



In the valley are many peaceful ranch places where all is restful. 

 Back of these s.tand the scraggy pinnacled mountains. It is perhaps 

 this striking contrast which makes the range so regal in its display of 

 strength. 



But no man ever saw this, mythical city. One band, 

 however, glimpsed a magnificent piece of God's handi- 

 work, never equalled in splendor by the most fanciful 

 imaginings of adventure seeking Quivira. For this band 

 early one morning came over a low highland of the 

 Greenhorn range and beheld, in magnificent splendor, 

 the high range of the Sangre de Cristos. The sunlight 

 streamed through the upper misty levels of the plains 

 atmosphere hundreds of miles east and produced for 

 these dark skinned Europeans a phenomenon since viewed 

 by many residents of the Wet Mountain Valley. Only 

 the red rays of the sun struck the peaks and high snow 

 covered range. Mists rolled over peak and ridge. The 



