SAN FRANCISCO MOUNTAIN.—PINE FORESTS. 
79 
December 15.—Having sent messengers to the wagon camp, desiring Lieutenant Ives to con¬ 
duct the survey by the river to this point, we recrossed Colorado Cliiquito, and turned again 
westward, towards the peaks of San Francisco mountain. From the edge of the prairie which 
hounds the river bottom, by a generally gradual ascent, we passed a mesa, and at midday 
reached a glen, one side of which was lined with dolomite, the other by a bed of lava. Beyond 
we traversed a sort of tufa, sometimes nearly knee-deep to the mules. Within the next eight 
miles we rose in regular steps upon wave after wave of volcanic rock, and then entered a system 
of conical peaks, beautifully regular. One among these had a broken crest, and a stream of 
lava which once poured out from it had been arrested and cooled in its serpentine course. A 
short distance beyond, a few branching cedars furnished shelter and fuel for a bivouac. Grama- 
grass has been excellent and abundant over nearly the whole of the route traversed to-day. All 
were fatigued with the march, and as we had brought with us water for the men, and the snow 
covering the ground was sufficient to satisfy the mules, we felt independent of springs, and 
encamped. 
December 16.—The largest of the volcanic hills referred to yesterday appears five hundred 
feet high, with a crater at top. A well-beaten Indian trail winds up the side, showing that 
there must he water in the basin above, or some other special attraction upon the summit. We 
continued our course westward for two miles, and then climbed a volcanic hill where we had a 
fine view of the mountains, now free from clouds. Between the southern base of San Francisco 
and a long spur stretching northwest from the Mogoyon, the same gap or opening that we saw 
from Camp 82 was again apparent. We therefore turned southwest in that direction. For 
some distance thickets of cedar had skirted our road ; now we entered a forest of pines extend¬ 
ing over a large tract of country from south to north. It is a species of yellow pine, called by 
the botanist Pinus brachyptera. The trees are tall, straight, and sound ; from one to three 
feet in diameter, and from sixty to one hundred feet in height. They are the same that are 
used for timber throughout New Mexico. In that dry climate no complaint is made of its want 
of durability. Noav we are evidently in a region of more moisture ; and Douglass spruce , which 
is also abundant upon the sides of the mountains, would afford a better material for railroad 
ties. Having travelled fourteen miles, we encamped in the pine forest, near the edge of a beau¬ 
tiful patch of grassy prairie that swept into a valley eastward. Beyond, no hills seemed to 
intervene between us and the point where, three days since, we turned to descend the Canon 
Diablo. The grade from thence is apparently quite regular, and would probably average from 
thirty-five to forty feet per mile. We have found no water since leaving Colorado Chiquito. Snow 
yet lies upon the ground to the depth of about an inch, and supplies the present need. A large 
herd of antelope was seen yesterday, and to-day we have followed the trail of at least one hun¬ 
dred. Upon the hill behind camp a broken jar has been found, the only recent trace of Indians 
yet seen. Tufa and volcanic scoria are still abundant. The rocks are metamorphic sandstone. 
The hills are covered with Corvania Stansburyania , a shrub which Mexicans call “ Alusima.” 
With them it is a valuable medicine, used particularly in complaints of hemorrhage. 
December 17.—At 9 a. m., leaving our bivouac upon the hill-side, we followed a wide, valley¬ 
like opening southwest, towards the southern point of the San Francisco mountain. Having 
gradually ascended two hundred feet in five miles, we found ourselves upon tire dividing ridge 
separating the waters of Colorado Chiquito from those flowing into the Gila. Thence appeared 
a smooth, grassy valley sloping towards the south ; and beyond, a magnificent view of a vast 
forest, covering a wide space, and extending as far as we could see, probably fifty miles distant. 
Towards the east were several volcanic hills, generally isolated like those we passed among 
yesterday. Looking back, we saw the same generally plain surface which appeared so inviting 
from Camp 82. At such a distance, it is true, minor depressions would be invisible ; but there 
was every indication to warrant the belief that, in that direction, fewer difficulties would be 
encountered than upon our trail. In the course sought at first appeared a long valley and none 
of the volcanic hills around which we have wound. 
