156 
Vol. XVIII 
ON BICYCLE AND AFOOT IN THE SANTA CATALINA MOUNTAINS 
By F. C. WILLARD 
A BOUT nine o’clock on the morning of May 19, 1904, two bicyclists might 
have been seen leaving Tucson, Arizona, in the direction of the Santa 
Catalina Mountains. They were 0. W. Howard and myself, our handle- 
bars piled high and our shoulders well draped with the necessary parapher- 
nalia for a trip into the region of giant cottonwoods, firs, and cactus to be 
found on the San Pedro slope of the aforesaid mountains. 
A few nests of Palmer and Bendire thrashers tempted and delayed us 
somewhat, so it was noon before we reached Agua Caliente, eighteen miles 
from Tucson. Here we had to leave our wheels and shoulder our packs. A 
rancher named Yail served us luncheon, during which we listened to direc- 
tions as to trails and short cuts which would bring us to Foran’s camp, on 
the other side of the mountains and twenty-one miles distant. About one 
o’clock we set out, the hot sun beating down on our backs as we climbed the 
steep zigzag which leads to the top of the pass some three hundred feet above 
us. A few Cactus Wrens, Mourning Doves and Verdins were seen on the way 
to the summit. Here we passed the Indian postoffice, a relic of the Apaches. 
It was a pile of small stones, the accumulation of ages, sufficient to fill several 
good-sized wagon beds, each stone placed there by some Indian in passing to 
convey a message to some future passer-by. What messages they must have 
been! We were almost prepared to see a painted face peering at us from 
behind a boulder as Major Bendire once did not many miles from here. Scrub 
oak, various cactuses, and bear grass constituted the verdure up to the sum- 
mit of the pass at this point. For some miles now the grade was very grad- 
ual, and scattering groups of large black oaks and Spanish bayonets were in 
evidence. A few Canyon Towhees and Arizona Jays were the only birds seen. 
Passing the summit we began a steeper descent. Sycamore and ash trees 
began to appear along the bed of the canyon. Cooper Hawks were seen, Tur- 
key Blizzards soared overhead, and in addition to the small birds previously 
seen, Vermilion Flycatchers appeared quite numerously in the sycamores, 
where we saw several nests. Howard had been through here a couple of weeks 
before, when he had collected some eggs of the Zone-tailed Hawk and had 
seen some Gray Vireos and Broad-billed Hummers. We kept eyes and ears open 
for the latter two species but without success. Intent on this we passed 
the dim trail where it branched off to cross over into another canyon, and 
were not aware of it until some miles beyond and it began to grow dark. 
Water was scarce, so we hiked back till we came to the first we could find, and 
hurriedly began to gather wood and select a soft spot for a bed. A long dead 
sapling made a foundation for an all night fire. Brush and logs were piled 
on top, after we had dragged this tree into place across a niche in the canyon 
wall, where it fenced us in. Lighting a fire at one end, we heated a can of 
beans (such a small one) and made as much of a meal as we could of this and 
two crackers apiece. Then, with our feet toward the fire we lay on the sand, 
my sleeveless coat for a cover, a flour sack with a few handfuls of leaves in 
it for a pillow. Poorwills began to call, a fox barked, and the fire burned 
bright and warm, making us feel as comfortable and drowsy as could be 
wished. The yip-yip-yee-e-e-e of a coyote sounded, and almost before the long 
drawn howl ended we were asleep. B-r-r-r, we awoke shivering. Our fire had 
