>>>>>>Lying off the eastern front of Fish Mountain, in the Colorado Desert, is a low range of hills known as Superstition Mountain. It is not a mountain in any sense of the word, but only an uplift in the valley floor. As the low hills undulate, rather than cumulate at a single apex, the ridge has become plural, and the term “mountains” is applied as often as not.
>>>>>>These hills give the impression that the Creator, when the desert was built, spilled a cradle of screenings by accident when He was on His way to the waste bin that makes the western mountain front. Somehow, one feels in this half-finished land that leaving hills about in the path of men was not an oversight but a gesture whereby a lesson might be taught. Legend states that the creators of the desert became engrossed in greater things, and the task will be finished only when man has proved its use.
>>>>>>The Indians attribute strange powers to parts of great ranges, and other sections they mark as the abode of many wondrous gods, while mile upon mile of equally intriguing hills are barren of any significance. But in no case is an isolated hill without its legend and its mysteries.
>>>>>>There is a fascination about isolated hills, and this feeling increases in direct ratio to their size. There is an urge to explore a lonely hill, and one feels that it must have been apart for some purpose. Once seen, its identity cannot be lost. Even the most unobservant and disinterested person knows of Pilot Knob, Signal Hill, and the Superstitions.
>>>>>>This range lies in a burning desert waste-an island in a sand-filled sea. About it is a lure and fascination that creates curiosity. The “Mysterious Isles,” its hills might be called; certainly not the “Happy Isles<” for around them is an atmosphere of sadness. Within them is no haven for man or beast; and while they beckon man to come, they also speak a distinct warning: “Disturb not my solitude, for I am forbidden ground.”
>>>>>>Actually, the range is a granite intrusive ridge that, before the surrounding area was filled with eroded drift deposits, was a spur of Fish Mountain. The Superstitions are about five (5) miles long with a northwest by southeast axis, and are generally less than a mile wide. Their highest point is 764 feet above sea-level. A gap of a few miles intervenes between them and Fish Mountain, and through Carrizo Wash heads on its northward course to join San Felipe Creek at Harper’s Well.
>>>>>>No place as mysterious as the Superstitions can be without legends. It is said that, as the sun hides behind the Lagunas at the close of day, and the last noose of light rests on Superstition before it is chased into space by the shadows, it transmutes some part of the yellow clay to gold. But, being jealous of the night and angry at being hurried from its daytime home, the sun catches the gold and drops it into secret places.
>>>>>>The Indians declare that the mountain moans and that terrifying sounds issue from the caverns hidden within its depths. They believe that in these caves is the home of a great serpent who is the enemy of mankind, and that this serpent in his writhings keeps changing the shape of the mountain. The noises may be the result of earthquake disturbances, for the Superstitions lie directly in line with an extension of the San Jacinto fault. The change in shape is continuous; for the highly heated air of the desert distorts objects, or possibly-in a saner mood-allows them to be seen as they are. Likewise, the mountains often change their form as blow-sand is banked against their western sides, sometimes overriding the hills completely and spilling down the eastern front. Again, if the whim of the wind chooses, banks of sand are dug out, exposing grotesque sandstone shapes.
>>>>>>The faculty of weaving romance does not belong to the Indian alone, for the white man is equally versatile in building extraordinary tales. In general, the latter are not so poetic, for the white man’s dreams are tinged with avarice. But there is one of these legends that carries a minimum of greed. It is this: >>>>>>In the early days, two men were crossing the desert towards Carrizo and, having no guide, lost their way. Late in the evening they came upon the Superstitions and toiled up a small canyon on the eastern front in the hope of finding water. They had no knowledge of the hardships of the journey, and so had set out with inadequate supplies; and now they were both in dangerous condition. One was stronger than the other and might have continued until he found carrizo, but the second could not. He urged his companion to push on without him; but the other refused with: >>>>>>”We will stay here until you are rested.”
>>>>>>As they sat in the dry wash of the canyon, they both fell asleep from exhaustion. Some time later they were awakened by a peculiar rumbling sound and a sense of extreme cold in their feet and to their amazement found a small trickle of water coming from a crevice in the rock. It was running down the sand where they had slept. Superstition Mountain, in a friendly mood, had granted them the aid to reach Carrizo safely.
>>>>>>But the mountain is not always so gentle-three skeletons now lie bleaching on its seamed and barren sides.
>>>>>>The Cocopah Indians have a legend that recalls the Banshee of Ireland, that wrinkled old crone who wrings her hands and wails over the roof of one who is about to die. The Indian bearer of evil tidings is not a woman, but an old, old man. He is called Wah-din-din, and the Indians fear him intensely. If he can catch a glimpse or see some likeness of an Indian, he will search out and find him. There is no escape, if the evil spirit has sufficient evidence to go on. His very appearance is a warning of approaching ill fortune, and he is always seen on Superstition Mountain.*
>>>>>>And so the mountains lie there, with their tops flooded by sands, alone and desolate, shunned by the natives, outcasts of the desert.
