Webmaster's note: When this was written, "Alliklik" was the term used to identify the Santa Clarita Valley's early residents. Today the name is Tataviam. The "Cave of the San Martins," which we know as Bowers Cave, is located within the boundaries of the Chiquita Canyon Landfill property. It is not covered in garbage, and considering its elevation, it is unlikely to be in the future. It has been excavated several times and is devoid of cultural material. The former Pyle Ranch is located in the present-day Valencia Commerce Center, approximately at Witherspoon Parkway and Avenue Penn. Spelling and punctuation (or lack thereof) are unchanged.

When the medicine men of the I'alliklik tribe of California Indians saw their people turning away from their native gods in favor of the new religious forms brought to them by the Spanish padres they were determined to preserve the symbols of their own primitive faith — and so they hid their feather robes, ceremonial wands and magic blades of obsidian in a remote cave in the mountains which border the California desert. Here they remained for nearly 100 years — until the discovery, reported in this story. — Desert editor Randall Henderson

Tucked high in a ledge slanting across a wind and water scoured face of a desert ridge within sight of Castaic Junction in northwest Los Angeles county, California, is a cave from which came some of the most famous Indian material ever to be discovered in the United States.

While archaeologists knew that the only mounted "perforated stones" ever to be discovered in the United States came from the region, they had never been able to locate the cave from whence they came. Their only clue was a statement by Dr. Stephen Bowers, the collector who handled the material, "… from a cave in the San Martin mountains in Los Angeles County."

My first lead to the location of the cave came some years ago while I was engaged in archaeological work in Piru Canyon drainage. It happened while I was camped on the old I'alliklik Indian Rancheria of T'akwishbit, "Place of Ball Lightning."

One evening while looking over the arrowpoints, bone and wood artifacts, and basketry fragments which had been dug from a cave in nearby Hazel Canyon,^[1] William W. Lechler,^[2] who had lived in the canyon since the days of the Indians, casually remarked:

"This is pretty good stuff. But the greatest Indian find ever to be made around here was many years ago by the Pyle boys. They got baskets as big as washtubs; feathered robes, and clubs made of wood and stone in the San Martins. Everett Pyle is still alive and lives in Fillmore!"

With this information I immediately contacted Dr. John P. Harrington, ethnologist of the Smithsonian Institution. Together we went to Fillmore, and from Everett Pyle, then in his 80s, we heard the story of the Cave of the San Martins.

During the 1880s Everett and his brother McCoy Pyle lived with their mother Mandy Pyle in Mud Springs Canyon^[3] three miles northwest of present Castaic Junction. When not helping with the bees and livestock the boys spent their time hunting through the nearby canyons and ridges.

May 2, 1884, McCoy went westward over the old Indian trail toward the San Martins to look for deer. Picking his way upward along the sandstone scarps he went over the apex of the ridge and started down the south slope. Fifty feet below the summit he spied a black opening in a nearby ledge.

Working across the crumbly face McCoy reached the lip of the cave. Hoisting himself inside he looked into the shadows. Before him, partially covered with dust, lay many Indian baskets ranging from small asphalt covered water jugs to giants three feet in diameter!

McCoy looked into the baskets. He saw feather robes and headdresses cunningly woven with flicker and condor feathers. There were also four finely shoped [sic] stone ax heads, and assorted ceremonial obsidian knife blades and some crystals.

But most important of all were four ceremonial wands or scepters. Shaped like doughnuts these perforated stones were decorated with red ochre designs, and were mounted on their original wooden handles with aslphaltum, the waterproofing and glue of southern California's primitive Indians.

McCoy hurried back to the ranch and broke the news to Everett. Together they rounded up a couple burros and returned to the San Martins. After several trips to the cave the boys finally had all of the treasure safely stored in the milk house at the ranch.

It happened that Stephen Bowers was in the region looking for Indian relics. Hearing of the Pyle discovery he hurried over to Mud Springs Canyon. He purchased the collection for $1500. Everett reminisced, "… that seemed like all of the money in the world — it was like finding a gold mine."

Bowers sold part of the collection, including the ceremonial wands, to Professor F.W. Putnam of the Peabody Museum, Harvard University. What happened to the rest of the material is not known. Bowers sold Indian artifacts to museums all over the World.

Upon examining the material Henry W. Henshaw of the Smithsonian Institution wrote, "While perforated stones have been rather commonly found in southern California, these are the only ones ever found in the United States mounted on their original handles.

"After careful consideration of these implements, I am convinced that their peculiarities accord best with the idea that they were the property of medicine men, or conjurers, and were probably used in dances, superstitious ceremonies, such as rain making, curing the sick, etc."

Bidding Everett goodbye John and I headed for the San Martins. From Castaic Junction we traveled southwest down the Santa Clara River over Highway 126. Then we turned north and started up a small canyon which Everett called the "Cove."

One mile's twisting drive on the dirt road brought us to the base of a ragged ridge. Looking up, we estimated that the summit was 1000 feet above. After checking the landmarks given us by Everett we were sure that we had located the elusive San Martins.

Scanning the area below the eastern pitch of the ridge we soon located the wild cherry tree that had been given us as a marker. Slipping on our haversacks and canteens we broke through the heavy growth of sage and started to climb the ridge.

We found the base of the San Martins to be composed of a conglomerate predominately of fossilized oyster and pectin shell. We soon learned that this tricky formation which may be wonderful country for rockhounds, made tough climbing.

At the end of a 30-minute climb we reached a level space 75 feet below the summit. We took our bearings. The lone wild cherry was a stone's throw across a ravine. Then we got the right angle. Under a ledge to the left of the tree the Cave of the San Martins opened in the chrome colored sandstone like a distorted mouth.

Detouring the dangerous traverse direct to the cave we climbed to the summit. From there the whole country spread out before us. To the west — the peaks of San Cayetano poked up through the clouds drifting in from the sea. Beyond — lay the Padres National Forest, the habitat of California's giant condors.

Eastward — in the land of the long gone Vanyume Indians^[4] — the headings of the Rio Santa Clara fingered upward through Bouquet, Mint, and Soledad Canyons. Above, the heat waves shimmered upward from the desert to fade into the blue-black dome of the Sierra Pelona.

After a few moments' rest we started our descent to the cave. Finding foot and handholds on occasional clumps of sage we braked our downward momentum until until [sic] we reached the mouth of the cavern.

When we jumped over the lip we saw that it was not a large cave. The mouth was 21 feet across; the dome was 10 feet from the floor; and it ran back into the conglomerate 16 feet. A glance at the fire-blackened ceiling told us that the cave had known human habitation.

Suddenly John called out, "Van, Everett sure gave us the right dope. There is no question that this is the cave where McCoy made his discovery. There are some inscriptions here carved in the sandstone and among them is 'MAC — 1884'!"

At the same time my toe caught on something just below the powdery surface of the floor. Looking down I saw that it was a large fragment of asphalt coated basketry. Then I remembered what Everett had said, "We left a big basket in the cave because it was crumpled."

The discovery told us that we might learn more if we probed into the floor fill. Starting at the front we worked back with trowels and brushes. When we finished, we knew a lot more about the Indians who had left their treasures there over 100 years before.

Small blue and rose colored glass beads found just below the surface told us that the cache found by McCoy had been placed in the cave around 1800 A.D. The lack of hearths told us that the cave had not been used for permanent living, but as a hideaway.

Three pottery sherds of black decoration on gray ware turned up on the lower levels. Sharply contrasting with the local Mojave desert red and gray plainwares, these sherds were later identified by the School of American Research in Santa Fe, New Mexico. They were Verde black on gray of the 13th century!

Coupled with the Pyle discovery of diorite stone axes, one of which was still in the possession of Everett, it seems that the I'alliklik had trade contacts that reached eastward beyond the Colorado River. Probably they traded sea shells from the nearby coast for the worked stone and pottery of Arizona?

When John and I finished our work we rested on the lip of the cave and watched the casual shifting of the summer's sunlight into the misty blue of twilight. As I looked into the deepening green shadow that was the Rio Santa Clara my thoughts drifted back over a hundred years to the pageant of what had happened passed before me.

Webmaster's notes.

Postscript.

In this January 1952 edition, Desert magazine editor Randall Henderson writes the following about Richard Fowler Van Valkenburgh:

Richard Van Valkenburgh sold his first story to Desert Magazine in 1939 — in fact it was the first story he sold to any publication. During the intervening 12 years, he has written 40 illustrative feature articles for Desert.

His writing career began when he was a member of the Indian Bureau staff at Ft. Defiance, and later at Windowrock, and all of his early manuscripts were about the Navajo Indians whom he learned to know very intimately after he learned to speak their language.

Later Van left the Indian service and lived for several years at Tucson where he wrote a series of radio programs which were presented over the Tucson station KTUC for 132 weeks. For the past year he has made his home at Santa Barbara but for health reasons has done only limited writing.

In submitting the story "We Found the Lost Cave of the San Martins" for this issue of Desert Magazine, Van stated that his health has so far improved he plans to return to the Navajo country. "During the 13 years I lived with the Navajo I collected a lifetime of material" he writes, "the only obstacle to its publication being the need for photographs. But now I havce a Graflex and when I return to the Indian country I will be in a position to get the pictures which editors always want."

Few writers know the Navajo as well as Van Valkenburgh, and Desert's editors will welcome more of his manuscripts from the Indian country.