Can El Naranjal possibly be found in the Tayopa complex?

[Real de Tayopa Tropical Tramp]

Good morning: k To business. Actually the description of El Naranjal can be easily fitted to an 1800's lost, extremely rich, AU mine in the Tayopa complex, complete with reverted Oranges ( Naranjos).

The popular descriptions place it in Durango, but using the same theorizing presently being posted, why can't it be in the 'T' Complex slightly north?

The common basis is the story that it was being worked in a deep Barranca (canyon) in the 1800's, then due to a revolution, it was temporally abandoned, never to be reopened. Both have oranges planted on the property, The canyon in the Tayopa complex is even called El Naranjal?

There is a cave in an in accessable area next to, and above it, it that has a huge amount of Gold (AU) bars stored in it. It was found by an Indian who would periodically return to it to cut off pieces of gold when he needed things.

Many tried to follow him but he was too clever for them. He recently died without disclosing where it is.

'However' near the vicinity of where he would always disappear, another Indian asked me "why would anyone drive a drill rod into the top of a cliff?

snicker . of course to tie a rope to to descend into a basically in accessable 'V' shaped area that has caves. One would have to exit the area by continuing down, so there must be another tie off point below.

ORO

Don Jose de La Mancha

 

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[Oroblanco]

Don Jose de la Mancha wrote

A: Can El Naranjal possibly be found in the Tayopa complex? B: The popular descriptions place it in Durango, but using the same theorizing presently being posted, why can't it be in the 'T' Complex slightly north?

A: Possible, but there are some problems with the theory.
B. I would only point out that other popular conceptions of the location of El Naranjal put it in Sinaloa, though close to Durango line. This would seem to be a major hurdle in transporting the mine so far north as to be in the Tayopa complex, but who knows?

If favor of this theory, we could note that Napoleon III had a plan (and maps) to build a railroad to Tayopa and el Naranjal, which we have no details on but in the way it was mentioned, could be taken to mean that a single railroad could run to both locations without any great divergence of route, suggesting that they may be in close proximity. Without Napoleon's maps, it is impossible to say what was in his plan, as far as I could learn not even Maximilian had the full details.
Oroblanco

 

[Real de Tayopa Tropical Tramp]

good morning Oro: as usual before we start. You did bring up a fascinating point, the railroad, that would fit precisely, although it would never be able to get to the Tayopa / Naranjal complex economically, so it must have been planned to reach the base of the Mesa only. Animals could then have transported the concentrated ore down to the RR. Keep in mind that in the late 1800's, one mine alone had over 3000 mules.

However, as I have mentioned, when I was working at the Colorados mine in Durango, the Indians told me that in the enormus, unknown, Barranca country to the East, they have found oranges floating down the major river. They come from someplace in the North Western sector.

One told me that he had followed them up to a hidden side canyon, and did indeed find the remains of a mining operation, but after returning to civilization for supplies, he was unable to return to the hidden side canyon.

To have an idea as just how easily a side canyon can be hidden, see pictures.

Don Jose de La mancha

 

[Real de Tayopa Tropical Tramp]

From old and sold
___________________

One of the most famous and long-sought-for old Spanish mines, in this middle-western part of Durango is "El Naranjal " (the Orangery) which was reputed to be a big gold producer. Long after the Revolution, when mining in this section was revived by foreign capital, reports were rife about this wonderful mine; and yet no one knew just where it was. Many had heard it described by their fathers or grandfathers, and all agreed on one point; that the hacienda was surrounded by a large orange orchard (naranjal) from which the mine took its name. While it is hard to believe that such a place, which must have employed many peones, could be actually lost, if we consider the years during which all industry was paralyzed by continued wars, together with the apathy of the Indians, and the nomad existence of the average mining peon, it is not impossible.
Many are the exploring parties, equipped by wealthy mine owners, that have gone in search of " El Naranjal ": many the supposed clues, such as traces of gold in a mountain stream, or a piece of rich quartz on the trail, that have been followed for weeks, only to end in disappointment. " El Naranjal," to all intents and purposes, existed only in the imagination of the people, who still talked about it as confidently as though it were an established fact. Their stories always held a peculiar fascination for me. It was not so much the hidden treasure as the old hacienda itself that excited my imagination. I often pictured the ruined buildings and the deserted chapel, whose bell had been silent for a century, save for a muffled note perhaps that fell from it on stormy nights; with no sign of life save the bats that flitted in and out at nightfall, and with the orange trees growing thicker and taller, shutting it more and more away from the world.
So one day when a man said to me, " I have seen ` El Naranjal,' I stared at him in amazement for fully a minute, before I could believe my senses. Then I passed him my pocket flask, offered him a cigarro and waited for him to continue. He was a character, such as you will find only in a mining camp: half-Mexicanized, through long residence in the country; always threatening to leave it, yet never leaving; always expecting to strike it rich and never striking it.
" Yes," he went on, "I have seen ` El Naranjal.' It happened this way. I had been prospecting all summer near an old pueblo north of Durango, and was returning to the city for the holidays. The first night out, I came to a lone Indian rancho about sundown, and asked if I could sleep there. The owner, an old white-haired fellow, lived alone and as the road was seldom traveled, he seemed rather glad to see me. I had with me a couple of flasks of Scotch whisky, and when we had made a supper on beans and tortillas, I got out one of the bottles and after a number of pulls, he became exceedingly friendly. The talk turned on old mines, and he finally told me that he knew where there was a very rich one, with a ruined hacienda.
" He said it was during a war, probably the French intervention, and that the government had sent soldiers into the mountains after recruits. He took what cattle he had and drove them over the mountains and down the other side. At the bottom of the canon beyond, which he had reached by following an old trail, he came on an abandoned hacienda. The mine, which was close by, had been worked extensively; and he picked up a piece of rock on the dump, with chunks of pure gold, as yellow as the oranges. I questioned him more closely. He said there were many orange trees and that they were very old; and then I felt satisfied he had seen the lost Naranjal. I asked him if he would take me there; but he replied evasively and became very reticent, so the subject dropped.
" The next morning I waited anxiously for him to refer to it again, but he said never a word; and my experience with Indians had taught me never to try forcing their hand. The old fellow had treated me well, and as I was about to leave, I gave him the flask, which still had a little whisky left. His eyes glistened with delight and he went and put it carefully inside an ancient chest made of rawhide, that stood in the corner. Re-turning he handed me, without speaking, a piece of rock. Instinctively I knew it was the one he had picked up on the ore-dump: I held it to the light and saw gold nuggets, as big as the end of my little finger.
" I looked at the old man and waited for him to speak. Instead he took my arm and led me into the corral. Pointing to the mountains, he asked if I saw a peak that looked like a big piloncillo (conical loaf of sugar). On my answering in the affirmative, he said the trail he had followed crossed at that point. He was silent for a while as though thinking deeply. At last he said that if I wanted to see the old mine he would go with me as far as the peak, and start me on the right trail. Beyond that point, he himself would not go. He said there were bears and tigers on the other side, and that I would need to go well armed and with provisions for a week or more.
" Impressed as I was by what he had told me, I was in no position to profit by it. I was alone, with no chance of getting aid inside of five days and without sufficient money to secure an outfit in any event. I determined, however, to remember the peak and that some day I would return and look for the mine. I cautioned the old man not to mention it to any one else. He looked at me gravely and replied that he was a youth at the time he made the discovery, and that I was the first one he had ever told. Promising him I would return, I set out for Durango.
" When I arrived, I learned that the men I had been working for had lost faith in the prospect and did not need my services any longer. I tried in vain to interest several mining men in ` El Naranjal.' They all heard me through, but had invariably too many irons in the fire already, to start on such a wild-goose chase, as they termed it; and I was at last compelled to go to work from actual necessity. Years went by and while I never forgot the old Indian's story I could never quite see my way clear to follow it up. Yes, I am a drinking man, a heavy one at times, like nearly all the old stagers; and often the money went in a spree that might have helped me to ` El Naranjal' and a fortune. It got so finally, that when I told the story people only laughed. I regretted a hundred times that I had not gotten possession of the rock, by hook or crook. The old man seemed loth to part with it, and at the time I did n't stop to consider the importance of having it to show.
" It was ten years later, when at last I saw my chance. I had been prospecting for some rich Americans at a point that I believed to be within at most four days' ride of the Indian's rancho. I was working some twenty odd peones and had been left in full control. The prospect looked more and more dubious and I had no mind to continue. Neither had I a mind to throw up the sponge. The story of the lost `Naranjal' haunted me. I thought of it by day and at last one night, in a dream, I saw as plain as I see you, the old hacienda with the orange trees growing all about it. The next day I picked out four of my best men, took what money I had on hand and prepared to hit the trail. Of course I did wrong to go without consulting my employers, but I had `El Naranjal' on the brain. Besides I felt sure of success. After we had fairly started, I began to feel anxious about my old Indian. Was he living after all these years? I wondered.
" The journey proved longer than I had figured on, but the night of the fifth day, just as I was wondering if I could have missed the trail, I saw the familiar rancho. I went to the door with a beating heart and was met by a middle-aged man, whom I saw at once was too young to be my former friend. He proved to be his brother, and said the aged Indian had been dead several years, though he could not tell how many. I spent the night at the rancho and in course of conversation touched on old mines, but he professed the densest ignorance regarding them. At last I asked him point blank if his brother had never told him of his discovery, adding that he had not only told me of it, but offered to direct me to the place. For a second he eyed me suspiciously. Then going to the old chest, which I re-membered only too well he took from it a small, black flask and holding it up before me, asked if it was mine. For a moment I was puzzled. Then like a flash it came to me, that I had given the old Indian what little liquor it contained on leaving him. I answered that it had once been mine, but that I had given it to his brother. At that he became voluble for an Indian. He said his brother had always looked for my return and had talked of me to the last, instructing him, in case I did come, to go with me to the peak of the mountain, and show me the old trail. I was wild to be off and finally persuaded him to start with us the next morning.
" It was near sunset the next day when we reached the cone-shaped peak, and the old man got off his mule and began scanning the slope on the other side. At length he gave a satisfied grunt and holding aside the tall grass, pointed to the faint semblance of a trail. I was to follow that trail two or three days, he said, and I should see the hacienda. He then put out his hand. Greatly surprised, I pressed him to pass the night with us; but he steadfastly refused, and with one backward glance, that had in it something of dread, in the direction of the abandoned trail, he bade me ` Godspeed' and disappeared in the darkness. I was too excited to sleep and finally got up and sat by the fire till day-break. We started as soon as it was light and then began one of the hardest jobs I had ever undertaken. It is not always a simple matter to keep on a trail that is in constant use; and when it comes to one that has not been used for half a century or more it is next to impossible. Sometimes we lost it and were an hour beating about in the brush, before we found it again. We had to walk, as the animals were as much at sea as we were; and we frequently had to cut our way through dense growths of chaparral. Sunset found us on a bare ledge of rocks, where the trail disappeared, and there was nothing to do but camp there for the night.
" At daybreak we began hunting for the trail, and the men had declared repeatedly there was an end of it when I discovered it, doubling on itself and leading through the brush again. I sent two men ahead with machetes to make a path, and we followed slowly, leading the animals. Night found us apparently no nearer our goal. We were still descending the mountain, and on every hand stretched the limitless chaparral. I have been in lonely places, but never one like that. The old man had talked of bears and tigers. There was absolutely not a sign of life, not even a bird save an occasional vulture, sailing overhead. The men looked downcast and after supper one of them came and asked me to turn back. He said his companions were all triste (sad) and `afraid we were going to the death.' I asked him why they thought so and he replied be-cause the vultures had followed us for two days. For answer I told him to make ready for an early start and assured him we should make it in one day more. Then I rolled myself in my blankets.
" When I woke it was not yet light, but before I had actually opened my eyes, I knew I was alone. I called out but there was no reply. The cowards, satisfied that I would not turn back, had deserted me in the night; and when daylight came, I found they had taken the best part of the provisions. I cursed them till I was tired out, and swore with every oath that I would never give up till I had seen the mine, and that if I failed, the vultures were welcome to my carcass. Then I started again, hewing my way with a machete, that had luckily been left behind. I kept on all day, not even stopping to eat and had about decided to give it up until the following morning, when I suddenly came to a part of the slope that seemed a wide ledge of red sandstone. It was devoid of vegetation and the trail was sharply de-fined, being worn deep in the sandy formation. I determined to push on, relying on my mule to keep on the trail.
It was now so dark I could not see four feet ahead. My mule seemed nervous and several times stood stock-still. I got off repeatedly and groped about in the darkness, to make sure I was still on the trail. I had just gotten into the saddle and ridden perhaps five rods further, when she came to a sudden standstill, snorted and began to tremble. I urged her forward but she reared and tried to bolt up the mountain. I turned her about and forced her on a few steps, when she stopped again and showed every sign of extreme terror. Dismounting I took a step forward, retaining my hold on her neck and it was well I did, for I found myself stepping into space, and only saved myself by hanging on to the mule. I had used my last match and there was nothing to do but stay my hunger as best I could and wait for daylight. It was evident that I had reached some sort of a jumping-off place; how much of a one I should know in the morning.
When I awoke the sun was high. I had slept from sheer exhaustion, but I was provoked at finding it broad daylight. It was fortunate for me that it was though, for as I sprang up and started forward, I saw that I was near the edge of a precipice; and the thought of my close shave made me feel hot and cold by turns. I crept nearer and saw that the trail ran to the very edge of the cliff, which had the appearance of a mountain that had been sliced off like a loaf of bread. Crawling to the edge, I looked over and saw a perpendicular descent of thousands of feet, which, instead of sloping outward at the base, receded; and at either side, as far as I could see, was the same precipitous wall. The bottom of the canon was four thousand feet below. As I scanned it hurriedly, a shining line of silver caught my eye — a river of course—and there, close beside it, was a clump of bright green foliage, with patches of white that could be nothing less than the walls of the hacienda. Yes there was ` El Naranjal,' I could have sworn it: yet no desert mirage was ever more inaccessible. On every hand towered those forbidding cliffs. My provisions were exhausted. My mule was ready to drop in her tracks. I knew that unless I turned back and made the rancho, I should starve to death; on looking up I saw the vultures still sailing overhead. I sat for hours, gazing at that patch of green, till I could almost see the outlines of the buildings. Once I thought I heard the chime of a bell. At last, aroused by the burning sun, I took one last look and started sadly up the mountain, dragging my mule after me. Even then I was not satisfied to go, but turned again and again, till I could no longer see the bottom of the canon.
" Before night, my mule lay down and refused to stir. I took off the saddle and left her. After that I lost sight of the vultures. Weary as I was, the ascent was much quicker than going the other way and after three days of terrible suffering, I reached the rancho, only to find it deserted. I managed to get into the house where I found a little corn. That night I chewed corn and drank water. The next day I made tortillas and then set out for Durango. Falling in with some freighters, I gladly traveled with them, and part of the way had a mule to ride. When I reached the city, I wrote a full account of my experience to my employers. I had some doubt as to whether they would believe me, and while waiting for an answer, my old enemy got the best of me and I went on a spree. It ended in an attack of fever and when I came to my senses two letters were handed me. The first one requested me to come at once; the second said they had heard of my goings on and that they washed their hands of me. I told my story again and again, but no one took any stock in it and so for the second time, I was obliged to give the thing up. I shall have one more try at it though: I am waiting for a man now who has promised me an outfit, and you may be sure there will be plenty of rope to get down over those cliffs with. I'm going to find `El Naranjal' or die trying. Who knows ! You may see me on Easy Street yet!"
This is the story of the man who says he has seen "El Naranjal." Will he yet reach it and "Easy Street "? Who knows? Meantime the ancient hacienda sleeps peacefully among the orange trees, and the golden nuggets, yellow as the shining fruit, lie hidden away in the dark chambers of the old mine.

 

[pronghorn]

Interesting story for sure.

However, one has to wonder, who or what establishes a trail
that is at one point sharply de-fined and worn deep in the
sandy formation, yet ends on the precipice of a four thousand
foot cliff leaving no option but to turn around,
what ever would be the purpose?

 

[Oroblanco]

I do not know the answer amigo Pronghorn - and we ought to be cautious about making assumptions about old trails; they can be old cattle trails, bridle paths, game trails, foot paths etc not necessarily a trail to a lost mine, and over time the effect of storms and elements can destroy portions just as in that story. It very well could have been the old trail to El Naranjal, or it could have been a deer path.

Well Don Jose - it is a great story, yet I have problems with the time line in trying to tie it to Tayopa. The story of El Naranjal seems to date to just before the Mexican revolution against Spain, or 1820 area, while the last reference to Tayopa that I could find dated to 1796. Another version of Tayopa is far older, so there is a time span between them; also Tayopa is associated with the Jesuits and a mission - Naranjal has no such affiliations I am aware of.

Not saying the whole theory is impossible, just seems like too many issues to me; distance, time, affiliation being rather large ones. Also secondary things like the neighboring mine to El Naranjal - Juana de Arco, which we see no reference to in anything relating to Tayopa. Not saying you are developing 'funnel vision' amigo as we sometimes see with the LDM and Superstitions (all treasures and lost mines getting shifted there) but this doesn't seem like a good fit.

Thanks for posting it, but have to say I am respectfully un-convinced.
Wishing you all a very happy and prosperous New Year,
Oroblanco

 

[Real de Tayopa Tropical Tramp]

Good morning my friend Prong: Good point, the hurricanes in the area are famous for destroying trails, and most important, they have caused massive land slides, sometimes almost a whole mountain side will collapse. And we mustn't forget earth quakes.

All of these factors are constantly changing the land scape.

A similar situation happened here in Alamos, eliminating a huge treasure that I was after. It was a cave, but is now buried under countless tons of rubble. sigh.

In the case of the Gloria Pan mine, as I mentioned, the eastern half of the mt.range collapsed blocking the arroyos Gloria Pan and the Lluvia de Oro forming a dam which in turn turned into a large lake. It existed for years, then was gradually broached and finally returned to it's former state of just being a large wide rugged valley. Incidentally oranges were found floating where it joined the Rio Fuerte, however when I was there, the orange trees had disappeared, so where did they come form?

This was particularly interesting to me since I found a human figure up on a ledge on the East side, that was pointing to some western point across the present valley. I could never find anything where it was pointing so I can only assume that it's indicated point is like the Alamo's one, is buried under massive tons of debris.

Don Jose de La Mancha

 

[Real de Tayopa Tropical Tramp]

Good morning Oro: you posted --> it is a great story, yet I have problems with the time line in trying to tie it to Tayopa. The story of El Naranjal seems to date to just before the Mexican revolution against Spain, or 1820 area, while the last reference to Tayopa that I could find dated to 1796
*******************
Tayopa itself, appears to have been closed in the 1600's, 'never to be reopened to this date'. However the Jesuits did return to the 'area' and continued working there until the expulsion order was carried out. As I mentioned the area is a fantastic geological one and will probably give up a few billion more.

So actually I see no confusion or disagreement.

What I did point out was that west of Tayopa, in a junction of the two arroyos, is a closed a gold Mine, in a deep barranca, worked in the 1800's with oranges still growing. Also there is the consistant story of a cave in the vicinity with many gold bars still stored in it. This lode was found and tapped by the Indian 'Juan de Rios'. We talked several times before he died.

This is why the iron bar driven into the rock just above the cave area is important. This is the only way to access that area.

Don Jose de La Mancha

 

[snakeyes]

 

[Oroblanco]

Don Jose wrote

So actually I see no confusion or disagreement.

What I did point out was that west of Tayopa, in a junction of the two arroyos, is a closed a gold Mine, in a deep barranca, worked in the 1800's with oranges still growing. Also there is the consistent story of a cave in the vicinity with many gold bars still stored in it. This lode was found and tapped by the Indian 'Juan de Rios'. We talked several times before he died.

A closed gold mine in a deep barranca, a cave with gold bars - are you sure this is not a case of shoe-fitting amigo? Where is the hacienda? What about the stories which revolve around the Durango-Sinaloa border region, just so much hokum? There are after all more than one gold mine in a barranca in northern Mexico, one could make a similar such case for almost anywhere, if we are to ignore the original traditions. On the other hand, what is in a name? If it is a rich gold mine, and-or there are stacks of gold bars hidden in a cave, does it matter what it is called?

Not to me!

Happy New Year amigo and to everyone!
Oroblanco

 

[lilorphanannie]

hi ,the mine known as "el naranjal" was one of @ a dozen or so gold and silver mines owned and worked by don juan jose zambrano. an iconic family name in the annals of durango history. there is a lot of information available,really . best source are the historical archives in the city of durango. zambrano built what is now the governors palace "palacio de zambrano"with the rewards from his mines,and if you read spanish ,you will see references occasionally to el naranjal. and some tax records in the church archives. he held huge tracts of land and three haciendas and would probably be a billionare today.several of his mines are still in operation. vague references are given to the location of el naranjal, i would think anyone truly interested enough should be able to track down the orginal concession title. i tend to think from the description that it was an extremely rich placer deposit on the san lorenzo creek. several people have claimed to have found a tunnel mine believing it was/is el naranjal recently( in the last 10 years or so) but no confirmation.

 

[Real de Tayopa Tropical Tramp]

Morning Annie an excellent post. Which San Lorenzo is it referring to? The one in Sinaloa / Durango is very rich, but flows through some extremely rough country at times.

There are many untapped, very rich, Gold Placers in it's flow through some fantastic barranca country.

As I drove up to the Las Colorados mine up on the crest between Sinaloa and Durango from Cosala, I could look East out over some of the enormous barranca country that lies in Durango and wonder just where would one start looking for the fabulous El Naranjal.

There are thousands of sq miles of extremely rough country with no roads in there.

The Orchids up there were beautiful also.

Don Jose de La Mancha

 

[peralta]

Don jose de la mancha, I hope im not out of line putting in my two cents.what I found in the myths is that they lead you away from an actual site purposely to throw you off.the mines I located aren't anywhere near where they are sopose to be.I can even see other markings for more mines in the same area but ill research them later.don't stretch yourself out, like you said, you feel something in the T area.go by what you feel it was good for me.be careful, take care.