Our expedition party on Dutchman Trail. Ahead is Parker Pass. Look carefully to pick out two horsemen and three horses packing equipment and supplies. They travelled much faster than my 3 – 4 miles per hour on foot.
Ahead is Parker Pass, the opening between the two hills in the middle distance. Weaver’s Needle, 3.7 miles distant, at left above the Parker Pass ridge. You can still see my party, ahead. I “zoomed” in for a better view of the party, rapidly pulling ahead and out of sight.
As I top a rise my party is out of sight, more of Weaver’s Needle is visible on the right. The trail falls here before rising again to achieve Parker Pass. Distances on the Lost Dutchman trail are difficult to estimate, visible objectives are much farther then they appear. Constant sun, clear air, difficult terrain conspires against the unprepared leading many into overextending their luck. As a case in point, 37 minutes transpired between the second and third photographs.
Dutchman’s trail, starting from First Water Trailhead, meanders through Sonoran Desert hills and washes, gradually climbing about 400 feet before descending into Boulder canyon.
We were a party of three with five horses: two mounts and three pack. I was on foot, unencumbered by the usual backpack loaded with 80+ pounds of equipment and supplies for an extended wilderness expedition. I used the opportunity to wear a Sony F828 camera, used for the handheld photographs of this series.
The following photograph is our expedition party on First Water Trail. That is Parker Pass, the opening between the two hills in the middle distance. Look carefully to pick out two horsemen and three horses packing equipment and supplied. They travelled much faster than my 3 – 4 miles per hour on foot.
Foregrounds are the “jumping” Cholla, cactus with sharp spines that seem to reach out and grab the unwary. During out trek from Apache Junction to First Water trail head we negotiated forests of this nasty plants.
The end of a day trekking to East Boulder Canyon at the foot of Weaver’s Needle, Superstition Wilderness. I had a light pack with the camera equipment and supplies packed in on horseback.
This is a type of daisy, formal name Rafinesquia neomexicana. This season, March 2008, it grew throughout the wilderness. You might know it as Plumeseed or New Mexico Plumeseed.
Marled and rose quartz outcroppings such as this appear throughout the Superstitions. The stories are of soldiers and prospectors who return from the wilderness with hoards of gold nuggets picked from quartz.
Marled and rose quartz outcroppings such as this appear throughout the Superstitions. The stories are of soldiers and prospectors who return from the wilderness with hoards of gold nuggets picked from quartz.
In my experience to come across the denuded ribs of an expired Saguaro cactus is to find a single one among thousands of flourishing, many-armed giants. Fourteen years ago, when this photograph was taken March 2008, a drought hung over Arizona since 1994, fourteen years. One documented effect of twenty-eight drought years is fewer young saguaro now survive into adulthood, the number of standing specimens is slowly decreasing.
On the slopes of Peter’s Mesa, Superstition Wilderness, Arizona
Here we are below the rim of Peter’s Mesa of the Superstition Wilderness. Blue Dicks flourish as the feet of the long-expired giant, the wildflowers grow from corms long used as food by Native Americans. Behind is a large stand of Prickly Pear cactus whose fruit, called tunas, is another food source.
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
I was a member of an expedition to Peter’s Mesa March 2008, a place central to Superstition Wilderness treasure legends. This is a sunset view, looking south, southwest. Light raking across the desolation and Miner’s Needle creates a fascinating spectacle. Ancient volcanism, apparent throughout the Superstition Wilderness, is here seen in the texture, form and type of rock as well as the mineral deposits. Miner’s Needle, like Weaver’s Needle (not seen in this view), are eroded volcanic summits. Look closely for the “eye” of Miner’s Needle, easier seen in the cropped heading photograph. To this day, hopeful prospectors search for gold nuggets.
There is one form of volcanism present today as an eerie rumble or hiss, similar to an enormous distant jet engine heard now and then during our two days on the mesa, louder and closer than an overhead plane could produce. The view includes many notable Sonoran Desert plants. Many young Saguaro cactus are in the form of green poles. Catching the dramatic light, on the ridge is a tall single flower of an Agave, known as the “Century Plant” it flowers once in a long life and dies.
Peters Mesa is named after “Old Pete” Gottfried Petrasch, father of Hermann and Rhiney Petrasch. Old Pete worked for Jim Bark for awhile in the 1890s doing odd jobs. Irregular employment gave Pete and Sons time to s searched for the Lost Dutchman Mine in the years following the death of the source of the legend, the “Dutchman” Jacob Waltz. The Petrasches were one of the first groups to search for the mine, and gold in general. They covered almost the entire Superstition range in their combined searches.
Sunrise looking across Music and LaBarge Canyons to Miner’s Needle
On our first day on the mesa, we came across the remains of one of these camps, on the top of Squaw Canyon, a deplorable junk pile discarded by searchers, presumably disappointed, too lazy to cart it out. That March, we were lucky to find the remnants of winter rains in the form of a meager trickle at the bottom of a shallow draw off Peter’s Mesa trail up from La Barge canyon. We had a good time of it until the trip was cut short by a storm front and torrential rains. We were back in Apache Junction before they hit.
Here is a photograph from our day touring the Glens of Antrim. While making our way up the coast to Torr Head a group of stone walls resolved into ruins. A cluster of cottages on grassy slopes above the Irish sea above Loughan Bay. This is the townland of Loughan. Along the road are wonderful signs providing in handsome carved letters the place name in english and gaelic. Here a signed only provided a gaelic name: “Loughan an Lochan”…near enough to meaning “Loughan Bay” in English. The bay is a shallow scallop shaped indentation of the coast, a margin of narrow sand strand.
Ruins are spread across the slope. Immediately before the views are traces of a foundation above the grass. Beyond the top of a gable, an entire gable to the left. On the far ridge, just visible, is an entire structure with doorways, gables, walls.
Across the Irish Sea, 13 miles distant, is the Mull of Kintyre. In faint outline, rising above the horizon, find the highlands of Islay more than 30 miles. Both are tips of peninsulas jutting from Scotland.
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The ruins lead to curiosity over who live here? What were their lives like? Why did they leave?
On Monday, June 9, 2014, cousin John Mills dropped his son, Sean Mills, myself and Pam Wills off at the foot of the western slopes of Slieve Foy on the Tain Way. Sean, Pam and I walked the way over the mountain and into Carlingford in the footsteps of epic Irish heroes.
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Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Thinking about the Aran Islands for my posts, “Killeany Bouy” and “Inisheer Welcomes the 2014 Gaeltacht Irish Football champions” brought me back to Isla Mocha.
Herman Melville’s thoughts were in and around this island off the central Chilean coast when he penned “Moby Dick” in the mid-nineteenth century while sitting in the city of Boston. He was brought Moby Dick not only by his own experiences on a whaling ship, almost certainly Melville owned a copy of Jeremiah N. Reynolds’ “Mocha Dick: Or The White Whale of the Pacific: A Leaf from a Manuscript Journal,” an true-life account of adventures around Isla Mocha. Sometime around 1810 Reynolds personally experienced encounters with Mocha Dick after the crew of an Antarctic expedition mutinied, stranding him at Valparaíso, Chile where he remained for two years.
Located 38°21’45.62″S, 73°55’6.91″W, around 8 miles in size north to south, 3.5 miles east to west Isla Mocha is surprisingly simple to find. A ridge of mountains run the north south axis, just 20 miles off the coast, a ship following the coast will find it easily, as I did from the balcony of the Oceania Regatta during a “sea day” of travel between Valparaiso and Puerto Montt.
Since waking that day I was on the lookout for Isla Mocha. In preparation for our month-long cruise around South America every mile of our itinerary was scoured for interesting sights, experiences and information. When I first learned of Isla Mocha (Mocha Island in English) and the connection with Melville reading about it in Boston, just as I was in Ithaca, one of my goals for that day was to catch sight of Isla Mocha as it rose from the horizon.
My goal was made easier for the cloud formation from the island mountains. Here is my first photograph, taken from our balcony on the port side. I chose the port side just for the landward view as the ship progressed southward on the western coast of South America. The Canon EOS-1Ds Mark III was tripod mounted with an EF 70-300 f4-5.6L variable lens set to 70 mm. We are northwest of the island with the coast just visible.
Another view with 188 mm focal length. The ship must have turned eastward, as the view progressed the island came closer. It was a fantastic thought to cruise above the subduction zone where the Nazca plate dives beneath the South American Plate. In the distance, on a clear day, the volcanic cones Villarrea and Quertrupillan are visible.
With the island due east, only a few miles away, the lens at 221 mm focal length. A fisherman is having an easier day in a calm sea. The indigenous people told stories of the souls of the dead travelling west to Isla Mocha. Pirates used the island as a resupply base. The fishing boat was the only sign of life.
That was February 14th Valentine’s Day. With Isla Mocha passing into the distance I changed for an evening with Pam. Here we are headed to dinner, somewhere off the coast of Chile’s Lakes (and volcano) region.
