On the Trail & ‘Round the Campfire
Welcome to my little diversion from the daily grind. Pull up a log or, just sit on yer’ fist and lean back on yer’ thumb (put a smiley face here) and let’s share a moment. I’ll throw another blog in the fire every now and then and, we’ll chew the fat about such mundane things as birds, nature, cowboys and the southwest, USA. I may even wax poetic or philosophical occasionally, but always honoring our creator. If you like something you read, please leave yer’ tracks.
Lost Ship of Imperial Valley—Was It Seen?
Since Dad was an avid prospector, legends and lore of lost gold mines and hidden treasure abounded in our house as I grew up. Legendary tales like that of Peg-Leg Pete and his crusty gold nuggets and three desert buttes. Dad absolutely believed some of the historical tales. To him, it was just a matter of finding what was lost.
For instance, he believed this legend about the "Lost Ship of Imperial Valley", buried in the desert sand, not far from El Centro, CA, USA. One story goes that blowing winds uncovered the ship on a ranch sometime before the turn of the twentieth century. In 1907, when yet a teen-age boy, an Elmer Carver was working for this rancher named Jacobson. He claimed to have seen the remains of the actual ship on his ranch.
Recounting the story in his later years, Elmer Carver said that Jacobson's wife told him in confidence the location of the ship's remains. She told him that, from within this mysterious boat, her husband recovered an iron chest containing a horde of jewels. History has it that they came to Imperial Valley poor as church mice, but left as wealthy folks. While their tale is generally known and even plausibly accepted by some of the old-timers, no one else claims to have seen the remains of the ship. They just knew that somehow the family left El Centro very well off.
Perhaps the most plausible tale of a ship lost in the desert involves the pearling expedition of Señor Juan de Iturbe in the year 1615. It is said that after a very successful pearling trip along the coastal waters of Baja California, he sailed up the Sea of Cortez (Gulf of California) to explore its northern end, which is the Colorado River delta. There, the gulf became a rather narrow channel between two mountains, but Iturbe was determined to navigate the waterway for quite some distance, until lo and behold, the waters opened up into vast sea that extended far and wide!
He had apparently sailed inland and drifted northwest over what is today the Imperial Valley and Salton Sea basin, toward Borrego Springs and then around the mountains, to the present Coachella Valley toward Palm Springs. Eventually, he realized that his inland sea was landlocked, so he determined to return south to the open gulf. But now, to his surprise, he noticed that the tidal waters were receding fast. He found himself the victim of unintended consequences—time and unforeseen occurrence—the wrong place at the right time. Like a fish caught in a tidal pool, in consternation he frantically sailed around looking for the narrow outlet back to the Sea of Cortez, but to no avail. He and his ship were trapped—up a creek without a paddle! He finally became stranded on a sandbar.
Maybe if he had found the entrance to the outlet channel, he could have calmly allowed the high tide to return and gone out with the low tide. But, for whatever reason, Iturbe felt forced to abandon ship with all its precious cargo of pearls and leave it high and dry. Apparently, according to early Mexican historical records, he found his way back to Mexico where he built another ship, never again to wander like a salamander into shallow waters!
Actually, this is true. From Anza-Borrego to the Salton Sea, sightings and tales of other ships, even of a Spanish Galleon, have persisted for over a 150 years. Off and on, since the time of Juan Iturbe, history records that Indians, travelers and crusty old prospectors have seen a ship exposed by the wind-blown desert sand. It is believed that a valuable cargo of pearls on a lost Mexican ship still awaits discovery by some lost soul, seeking lost treasure.
One of the earliest tales of finding the pearl ship is of an incident that apparently happened in 1775. A young pack mule driver, who was part of the De Anza expedition, stumbled upon the pearl ship two or three days out of Yuma. He filled his pockets with pearls and deserted the De Anza expedition and headed west to the Mission of San Diego. Later, befriending some Indians, he returned a number of times in search of his lost ship bonanza. He never found it again.
Think of it—the lost finding the lost—not gold but desert pearls! And thereby hangs a tale waiting for its final chapter. Interestingly, I had a brush with this history. I was personally involved in one of these reported sightings during my youth.
In the late 1940's, I recall Dad coming home once from one of his prospecting expeditions, probably in the Anza Borrego area. He described a ship's mast that he had seen sticking up out of the desert sand. He was more excited about that than any ledges of rosy quartz outcroppings, or looking for nuggets on three buttes. The oddity of it all made his story believable beyond question. Who goes out in the desert looking for gold and comes back with a lost ship story? He re-told that experience for years, and it weren't no desert mirage. To this day I have no doubt that he saw what he saw.
Since historic geographic records confirm that the Sea of Cortez once extended up in to the Imperial and Coachella Valleys, who knows? Maybe my Dad saw evidence of the fabled lost "Lost Ship of Imperial Valley"—a Mexican ship with a large cache of pearls that got land locked in the ancient Gulf of California back in the early 1600's. Dad never returned to find it again. So, it still awaits discovery by some lost treasure hunter.
Again, think of it—the lost finding the lost—not gold but desert pearls! Now every desert cowpoke or chuck wagon cook will laugh and tell you that any such pearls had to come from tasty "desert oysters" collected by castration during spring roundup!
© 2013 Ed Keenan