February 18, 2004—Things Are Not Always the Way They Seem!

                                    Discovering Fortuna. 

With our newly acquired range permits from the Marine Corp base, we set out to explore the western side of the Gila Mountains, those moonscape giants just beyond our section of the Foothills. A small dirt track beckoned south and was poorly marked on the blackened Xerox map the base gives you with the permit, as El Camino del Diablo. The road is somewhat graveled, large parts sand, and 100% very bumpy and tortuous for a large vehicle like our Dodge one ton. The track traverses the Barry Goldwater Range and immediately to the west of the road is the active bombing section that is totally off limits.  

A call confirms that it’s ok to travel today. Soon, we are in to magnificent desert scenery and enjoying the 80+ degree day with the windows down. The ocotillo is nearly in bloom and I couldn’t resist this picture of a giant saguaro, whose errant arm almost begs a dirty nickname. Shame on me!

Nearly an hour of bouncing gets us probably 5 miles down the dirt track to some small ruins. A little farther on we come upon more and what appear to be old mining operations. We’re intrigued and I make a note to try and find out more information about this spot.

               Fenced off mine shaft                                                    Old ruin

The wonder of back country travel like this is that when you stumble upon something unexpected that reeks of history, it’s almost like you’re the first to discover it. We spend an hour hiking hills, throwing rocks down the fenced in mine shaft—a very, very long way down according to the sound—and investigating what appeared at first glance to be the remains of a house. Closer examination reveals that the structure is actually a cistern. Old, rusted pipe still clings tenaciously to plaster on one end but is missing from the other. Since the cistern sits about three quarters of the way up a hill, it’s a mystery as to how they collected enough rainwater from the scant two inches a year that falls here to do much good. There are obvious signs of this water pipe running throughout the ghostly community however.

                        Down the mineshaft                                                  Structure from afar

                     Rock ruin--cistern                                                Inside the dry cistern

The road continues south and more easterly from this point, but for today, this is our turn around point. It starts climbing and narrows, and we’ve already had problems with breaking the plastic wheel covers on the Dodge from the boulder strewn narrow track. Alas, even though it’s a four wheel drive, a Jeep it’s not!  

Now, back to the original idea in my title for this update and what a little research turned up! A small, dirt track, mainly used by ATVers and four wheel drive enthusiasts? Hardly.  

The El Camino del Diablo is actually a designated historic backcountry byway that follows the original route chosen by the Spanish soldier Melchior Diaz in 1540, followed thereafter by de Anza. It became a major shortcut for those immigrants seeking a quick route to the California gold fields. Due to the lack of water in this arid region, it also became the deadliest trail, claiming up to 2,000 deaths from thirst. This section of the Range is the most arid region in all of North America.  The Range itself stretches 120 miles to Organ Pipe National Monument and also encompasses the Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge just north of Mexico. The El Camino del Diablo continues on in to Mexico. A highlight of many four wheel drive enthusiasts is to drive the entire course which takes about three days. It is reputed to be the largest and finest large track of wild Sonoran desert left and except for our winged comrades in the skies above, we drive many miles without passing another soul.   

Back to the mine ruins. Scant written material seems to be available, but from what I’ve been able to ascertain, it appears as though the ruins we poked through were of a town called Fortuna. Gold at Fortuna was not noted by the forty-niners, but took until 1894 to be discovered. On a check of ghost towns in Arizona I only found one source that even briefly mentioned Fortuna, so it doesn’t appear to be well known.  

The mystery of the water pipe and the empty cistern? One account says they piped and pumped water from the Colorado River twenty miles away! Fortuna boasted a post office which operated from September 1896 until November of 1904. That’s essentially how long the mining lasted as well, with about 2.6 million being pulled from the rocky ground. Its heyday saw a hotel, several saloons and a stage and freight line also operating. All that remain today are a few sloping rock piles and dugouts indicating possible small one room cabins and an occasional plaster or cement slab of about 600 square feet. Oh, and the rusted water pipe which sticks up incongruously from all around the area at odd angles, but which kept many an old timer from becoming another statistic of the El Camino del Diablo, the Devil’s Road.