Tumco

 We were now getting close to Yuma, where our neighbours Jeanne and Francis bought a 'park model' in a retirement community. We visited them last spring, too, when they stayed in their camper, and wanted to see what their new winter home looked like. Also, we wanted to give Yuma one more chance: last year we were not taken with it at all.

Since we try to hike every day at least for a while we looked for an opportunity along the way from Blythe to Yuma and found it in Tumco Ghost Town. To reach it, we turned off Hwy. 78 coming from Blythe, onto the narrow S 134 which later connects with the I-8 near Yuma. This area has been mined for gold for the past 300 years, first in small mines by Mexican settlers coming from Sonora. In 1894, during a mining boom, the previous mining camps in the area incorporated as the town of Hedges. Boom was soon followed by bust: by 1905 the mine was abandoned, due to poor management and overexpansion. In 1910 the United Mining Corporation re-opened it (thus the name of TUMCO), but only a year later its ultimate decline began, and the miners and their families moved back to the Yuma area. Only a few foundations and rusted remnants of mining vats and equipment are left, and, of course a multitude of abandoned mine shafts.

A sign at the start urges visitors to leave the artifacts intact and not remove anything, but most of the 'artifacts' we saw on our walk were rusted tin cans and broken bottles, likely accumulated at a much later time from the visitors to the area. It felt like utter desolation: hardly anything grows here besides a few scattered creosote bushes; hard to believe that at one time in the late 1800s this was a town that sustained up to 500 people and produced up to $1000/day in gold. We wanted to extend the walk beyond the 1.5 miles through the former town and mine site, but instead of a trail we hiked up a dry creek bed, clambered over rocks – but at last found some green, to my great joy. Palo Verde and Mesquite trees gave some meagre shade, the latter trying to claw at us, the long, slender branches of the ocotillos, totally dry and dead looking before this, were covered entirely in small green leaves, their tips sporting red buds and even blossoms, and, wonder of wonders, on a bank we found the first opened cactus blossoms, soon to be followed by many more right where we walked. 

Satisfied, I declared this a successful hike, and after about an hour we turned around and finished the round through the town and mining site. I found a few white wooden crosses on a hill, two bigger and three smaller ones, likely a family being buried here, each with an offering some caring soul, or maybe even a descendant, had left: a bundle of branches for the adults, stuffed animals for the small graves. On the way out we passed another small cemetary, this one without crosses; only mounds of rock, arranged in a line, indicated what lies beneath.

The area is now favoured for boondocking, and it might have its charms for that: it is remote and rather quiet, and trails to the many mine shafts provide ample opportunity to explore. For us, it was a suitable spot to do our daily exercise and learn a bit about the area, but by the time we returned from our hike we were ready to move on.