Mojave Desert Diary...: 2021

Before the Blacktop: The Cajon Pass.

Scott Schwartz

Today, we take the ribbon of blacktop that winds through the Cajon Pass for granted. As our cars, trucks, and SUV’s downshift to keep pace as the 15 Freeway ascends to the summit; how many of us give thought to the struggles of those who once trod through this rugged country via horse, mule, or wagon?

Make no mistake; the Cajon IS rugged, unforgiving country. During the summer, temperatures can approach the one-hundred-degree mark. Winter brings snow, heavy rains, and fog. And, let us not forget the fires that have swept through the area.

Those with a taste for adventure, along with a capable vehicle, can still get a taste of the old hazards- the rocky terrain, the dearth of services of any kind, by meandering along some of the many off-road trails that hide from the view of those driving along the freeway.

The truth is that people were traveling through the Cajon Pass long before the first wheels (wooden or rubber) ever rolled through here.

The word “cajon” means “box,” in Spanish. And, that word certainly describes some of the isolated canyons here. “Cajon” also formed part of the name that was officially given to the area by Padre Joaquin Pascual Nuez in his 1819 diaries: ex-Caxon de San Gabriel de Amuscopiabit. “Amuscopiabit” was the name of the Native American settlement that was located in the area.

However, military governor Pedro Fages may have been the first white man to travel though the Cajon Pass. The year was 1772, and Fages was chasing some Spanish Army deserters.

It is likely, though that the first American to cross the Cajon Pass was mountain man Jedediah Strong Smith. Smith passed through the area during his 1826-1827 trek from Salt Lake City.

Following this, famed Mexican merchant/explorer Antonio Armijo (who is known for heading the first merchant caravan from New Mexico to California’s San Gabriel Mission) passed through the Cajon.

Gradually, the Cajon Pass became the route of choice for various trappers, prospectors, settlers, merchants…and horse thieves. Indeed, the most famous horse thief was a Ute Indian who was known as Chief Walkara. Born in Utah – in either 1808 or 1815 (accounts vary) Walkara was referred to by some as the “greatest” horse thief in history.

Walkara’s heyday was the 1840’s and early 1850’s. During those years, Walkara would raid the ranches in southern California and then drive the stolen horses up through the Cajon Pass. Walkara would also kidnap any Piute Indians (including women and children) encountered along the way. These captives would then be sold to Spanish or Mexican merchants as slaves.

Walkara’s most famous raid was one in which three to five thousand stolen horses were herded through the Cajon Pass to the high desert. According to some accounts, the dust kicked up by the horses could be seen for fifty miles!

Getting back to wheels, though; the first of these were taken through the Cajon Pass in 1848. The wheels in question belonged to the wagons that former Mormon Battallion soldiers, who were making their way back to Salt Lake City, were using. Within a year, former Mormon Battalion Captain Jefferson Hunt began to lead groups of wagons, along with gold prospectors, through the Cajon Pass, into San Bernardino.

At the urging of his church, Hunt built a Mormon Colony in San Bernardino. A group of these Mormon pioneers supposedly camped at the rock formations that are now known as “Mormon Rocks” in 1851. Some may know these formations as the “Rock Candy Mountains.”

The Mormon Rocks, which are sometimes referred to as the “Rock Candy Mountains.”

To the left o the formation is Cajon Wash. The road in the distance is Hwy. 138.

Photo by Scott Schwartz.

1851 was also the year that traffic volume through the Cajon Pass virtually exploded. By then, freight wagons, prospectors, settlers, and soldiers were using various routes to get through the Pass. No one knows which route was best, but, one thing was sure; travel through the Pass was a treacherous undertaking.

Earlier, this writer mentioned that the first wagons were “taken” through the Pass in 1848. This is because the rocky terrain and hostile Indians made for a very difficult and dangerous journey. In places, the terrain was so difficult, that the wagons had to be disassembled and carried in pieces during parts of the trip. Despite the difficulties and dangers, supplies for those who lived in the valley simply had to get through.

The first step in assuaging this situation came in 1861, when mountain man/pioneer/merchant John Brown made improvements to a pack-trail which went through the Cajon Pass. Brown charged a toll for use of the road.

By the 1870’s, however, Brown had not been doing a very good job of maintaining the road. At least, that was the opinion of many who used the road.

Two dissatisfied persons in particular, decided to turn their anger at the road’s poor condition into action. A Captain Lane, along with his friend George Blake ran an ad in the March 29, 1875 issue of a San Bernardino newspaper. The ad placed a deadline of May 1, 1875, on repairs to the road. If the repairs were not completed by the deadline, Lane and Blake, along with others, would refuse to pay the toll after May 1.

Well, the deadline came and went without Brown making any apparent improvements to the road. Lane did exactly what he promised; he began to bypass the tollhouse in order to avoid paying the toll.

By this time (the summer of 1875), the road had been leased to a John J. Driggers, and it was Driggers who brought suit against Lane in order to compel Lane to pay the tolls.

The suit spiraled away from the mere attempt to collect the accrued tolls from Lane- which, including penalties for non-compliance-totaled $96.

Lane, in his response to the suit, asserted that Brown (who was, in addition to his other vocations, an attorney, and who was also a member of Driggers’ legal team) had no right to collect tolls at the southern end of the toll road. Lane claimed that a public road already existed in the area, that the public road had been blocked, and that Brown’s road was simply the old public road, albeit with a few improvements. In short, according to Lane, Brown had been charging tolls for the use of a public road.

The judge’s instructions to the jury were basically this: determine if Brown had deliberately blocked a section of the old road in order to render it “abandoned,” or if the old road had been abandoned due to the existence of the better road.

Well, on October 3, 1875, the jury reached a decision; Brown could, indeed, collect tolls. Judgement was rendered for the plaintiff.

After the trial, rumors circulated that there would be another suit, but nothing ever came of it.

Lane, who still wanted a public road through the Cajon Pass, tried a different approach. During the trial, the judge ordered anyone who wanted the tolls on the public road reduced to file a request with the County Supervisors.

Lane did file the petition with the County Supervisors-asking them to approve the re-opening the old road through the Cajon Pass. The petition was granted by the supervisors, thus setting the stage for more conflict. However, Lane apparently did not pursue the matter further, and things went back to normal.

“Normal,” of course, meant that people went right back to complaining about the toll road. The complaints culminated in the local newspaper publishing an editorial which called for the opening of the road to the public.

Finally, Brown was hauled before the Board of Supervisors in order to justify his refusal to lower the toll rates. During his March 11, 1878 meeting with the Supervisors, Brown was able to convince the Board to let him retain the old toll rates, but he was ordered to allow freighters who were carrying horse or cattle feed to pay the toll only going one way, he was ordered to build two turn-around spots, and he was ordered to repair the road at a spot that was called “Point of Rocks.” Point of Rocks was in the upper narrows.

All of this had to be done by June 1, 1878.

Perhaps having had enough of the troubles with his road, Brown sold his rights to run the toll road only a week prior to the June 1 deadline.

The buyers were two miners named Jesse Tay and Charles M. Lawrence. In order to protect himself, Brown, in the transfer paperwork, stated that he could not guarantee the right to collect tolls nor guarantee the “validity” of the toll road franchise.

Whether Tay and Lawrence ever complied with the Board’s requirements is not clear.

What is clear, is that the toll road charter expired on October 17, 1882. And with that, the toll road became a public road.

Although the road through the Cajon Pass greatly opened travel up through the Pass, it could accommodate only a relatively low volume of traffic. This was apparent to people early on, and the idea of running a railroad through the Cajon Pass had been considered as far back as 1857. During that year, the first railroad survey was conducted by a Lt. R.S. Williamson. 1857 was also the year during which Lt. Edward Beale led his Army camel caravan through the Cajon Pass. But, that is another story.

Travelers through the Cajon pass, circa 1901.

Photo courtesy of the United States Geological Survey.

At any rate, Williamson’s survey dictated the use of a costly 3.4-mile tunnel through part of the Cajon Pass. Though traffic through the Cajon Pass was increasing steadily, the railroad idea was shelved until 1875, when a mining boom in the Panamint Mountains inspired work on the railroad to begin.

Some railroad beds were created, and drilling of the tunnel began. But, the Panamint boom didn’t last, and with the end of this boom came the end of railroad construction.

That is, until 1879, when a group of engineers planned a route that would not require the building of an expensive tunnel. Construction of the railroad was completed by 1885, effectively ending the freight-wagon era. By now, of course, the steam-locomotive era has ended as well. Today, the throbbing of diesel locomotives is heard almost constantly throughout the canyons in the Cajon Pass, as the need to move freight through the area has never dwindled.

So, what ever became of the toll-road, which became a county, public road?

With the growth of automobile travel, the old toll road became the basis for a paved road. This paved road was named the “National Old Trails Highway.” In turn, the National Old Trails Highway became Route 66.

The increasing popularity of automobile travel attracted the attention of mountain explorer/poet/real-estate investor William Marion Bristol.

A humble sort, Bristol had moved to Los Angeles in, from his native Illinois, in 1882. By 1887, Bristol had already lost his investment in real-estate.

Bristol spent most of his time traveling through the San Gabriel Mountains, with his two burrows- Samson and Moses.

During his travels, Bristol, or “B”, as he liked to be known, became fascinated by the residents of the mountains. He found the “denizens of these heights” to be as interesting “as the heights themselves.” Indeed, after joining a hunting party into the San Gabriels in 1886, Bristol’s enthrallment with mountain men was complete. The hunters’ stories of mountain lore fascinated Bristol, and he developed a life-long respect those who lived and hunted in the mountains.

With the dissolution of this hunting party, Bristol headed into Lytle Creek. There he was met by one George Turk. Turk was the last of the placer miners in the Lytle Creek area, and he lived a life that was as rustic as possible. Bristol shared this existence with Turk for several weeks, before returning to the “civilized” world.

By 1917, Bristol had spent many years at his citrus ranch in East Highlands, where he grew oranges. During that same year, however, Bristol attended a ceremony in which a monument was dedicated in honor of the Santa Fe and Salt Lake trails in the Cajon Pass.

After the ceremony, Bristol and the others in attendance had a picnic among the flora. During the picnic, Bristol, noticing the natural beauty of the area, had an epiphany. Why not build a rest-stop for tired travelers, here in this beautiful place?

Of course, World War I was in progress at the time, so Bristol could not begin to implement his idea until after the Armistice was signed.

The war over, Bristol wasted little time in setting his plan in motion. He officially announced his plan in March, 1919; in May of that same year, Bristol set up camp in the Cajon pass. Not one to delegate work to others, Bristol built the first twelve concrete tables himself- at a rate of one per day!

Bristol decided to direct the whole operation himself, believing that the project would never be completed if left to a committee.

Soon, Bristol’s idea evolved from a rest-stop into a complete camp-site, at which nothing would be spared in catering to people traveling in cars.

Bristol’s idea had support from people throughout the state, and most were eager to help as much as possible. In order to accommodate his supporters, as well as to help fund the project, Bristol got sponsors to contribute $50 each. This helped cover the cost of items such as tables, barbecue pits, and so forth, and enabled “average” people to pitch in. In return, each sponsor received an iron tablet, inscribed by Bristol himelf.

People were also interested in donating flags. Since a flagpole was put up at the site, and figuring that flags wear out over time, Bristol created a sign-up list for those wanting to donate replacement flags.

The sponsor and flag donation ideas gained wide acceptance; however, another of Bristol’s ideas did not go over so well.

The operative words here are “go over.” Bristol wanted a huge rock arch to be built over the highway. The State Highway Commission stopped that project dead in its tracks, as they would not allow anything like this to “go over” a public road.

Undeterred by this minor setback, Bristol continued with the project. Since this was to be a welcome-center for motorists, their vehicles should be cared for as well. So, in 1919, Bristol gave permission to one Marion J. Meeker to build a gas and repair center across from the camp. In addition to running the service station, Meeker was installed as the camp’s caretaker by Bristol.

The welcome-station’s dedication ceremony took place on July 4, 1919. It was an event to remember; the County had cleared a large area for the crowd to assemble, the ceremony featured musical performances, poetry readings, bugle calls which announced beginning of the outdoor meal, and a christening of the camp with a bottle of Cajon Creek water.

At this time, Bristol made the surprising announcement that the camp was not yet complete; there was more to come! The crowd was ecstatic.

In the wake of Bristol’s announcement, sponsorship pledges skyrocketed. Businesses, cities, individuals, and travelers all became contributors. Indeed, the station’s facilities started to spread, across the road, and up the sides of the hills, just like the wildfires that plague the area. The Elks Club built a lodge, which featured a water-powered clock. A podium was built, so that “any citizen of the world” could make public proclamations. A building was built to accommodate the custodian, a store, and a post-office. The Department Of Motor Vehicles set up shop in order to provide licenses to visitors. The Forest Service built a trail to a nearby peak that the Service named Camp Cajon Lookout.

The camp inspired poems; other cities asked for permission to copy Bristol’s plans for the tables and the metal sponsor’s plaques. Bristol granted permission, with the proviso that the other cities’ first plaques indicate the mileage and direction to Camp Cajon!

In building the camp, Bristol used rock found locally, and all of the structures- including the tables- were built large enough and tough enough to resist the ravages of time and weather. Yes, it seemed as though the camp would last through eternity.

Alas, it was in 1920 that things began to unravel.

In December of that year, Bristol fired the camp’s caretaker, Carlos Alfonso Edson. Edson had replaced the previously-mentioned Meeker as caretaker. The arrangement required Edson to sell wood to campers, so that the campers wouldn’t damage the landscape by foraging for wood. Bristol claimed that Edson wasn’t selling much wood at all, and was thus, insubordinate. For his part, Edson, who was also the Cajon postmaster, claimed that Bristol failed to provide a suitable building for the Post Office.

After the firing, Edson complained to the County Board Of Supervisors. Bristol threatened to quit as Director of the camp, if Edson was reinstated.

Well, Edson was reinstated, and Bristol quit. The year was 1921. Although a replacement Director was appointed, many were concerned about the long-term existence of the camp without Bristol at the helm.

Eventually, after much negotiation with the Board Of Supervisors, and with Edson, Bristol was talked into coming back to the camp as Director. However, Bristol insisted that the Board- and Edson- recognize Bristol’s position as Director, and therefore, the one who would make all decisions regarding the development and running of the camp. Edson grudgingly apologized to Bristol, and all was well.

Not really.

It wasn’t long before Bristol decided that he was entitled to a salary, since he’d given so much time and energy to this huge project. To fund his salary, Bristol suggested that all Chambers Of Commerce in the County could be asked to donate money. Not surprisingly, several cities rejected this idea.

At this point, the camp was considered, by the County, to be a boondoggle that should be self-supporting. Therefore, a Director who would work without receiving a salary would be hired. The new Director would be allowed to run the gas station and the store as compensation.

The County opted to retain control of the land that it was leasing from the Santa Fe Railroad, and control of the rest of the land was ceded to the Forest Service.

So, Bristol resigned as Director of the County-controlled areas of the camp. But, he stayed on as Director of the parts of the camp that was controlled by the Forest Service. Not wanting to abandon the many people and organizations who’d helped him build the camp, Bristol felt obligated to assist those who wanted to build further on the Forest Service lands.

Ever the visionary, Bristol planned a buy-out of the County’s interest in the camp, after finishing the new house that he was building on his East Highlands ranch. Referring to Camp Cajon as a “great national institution,” he wanted homage paid to every county in California, and to every state in the union, at the camp.

Camp Cajon had indeed survived the political battles and turmoil, and the camp seemed to have a bright future.

Sadly, what had taken Bristol and his supporters years to build, was completely destroyed during March of 1938. During that month, extremely heavy rains caused massive flooding. The floods, in turn, literally washed the camp away. So powerful were the flood waters, that most of the concrete tables were broken apart and buried under twenty feet of mud!

Although some thought was given to rebuilding the camp, it never was. The road and the canyon were just too badly damaged.

So, the road through the old camp site was bypassed by the highway that was built at a higher elevation. Today, a McDonald’s and a Chevron gas station cater to the throngs of travelers, off-roaders, and hikers who pass through the area.

Camp Cajon before the disastrous flood; note the concrete tables and benches.

Photo courtesy of the United States Geological Survey.

In the upper left, the McDonald’s and the Chevron station can be seen. Beyond, is the 15 Freeway. The road that runs through the center of the frame is Highway 138.

The McDonald’s and the gas station were built on the site of the now-buried Camp Cajon.

This field, just south of the McDonald’s, is also part of the Camp Cajon site. What historical treasures must lie beneath this ground!

Ultimately, some of the picnic tables were dug up and placed in a few San Bernardino County parks and recreation areas. Among these was Lytle Creek.

Lytle Creek, today, is a community with roughly a thousand people calling the area home. In addition to its permanent residents, weekends find the area packed with visitors who come to fish (the creek is stocked with trout), hike, or just enjoy a brief respite from suburban life.

But, the story of Lytle Creek takes us once again to the Mormon pioneers. We return to the year 1851. The commander of one of the three Mormon Battalion companies that came through here was a Captain Andrew Lytle, who camped in this canyon while on his way to San Bernardino. Lytle’s group was one of the first group of pioneers to settle in San Bernardino, and he eventually served as that City’s mayor.

Lytle Creek, today. The Cities of Fontana and Rialto can be seen in the distance.

Back to Camp Cajon:

In 2017, The San Bernardino Historical And Pioneer Society, The Wrightwood Historical Society, The Highland Historical Society, and the Mohahve Historical Society joined forces to rebuild the Camp Cajon Monument. This team was put together in order to have the restoration completed in anticipation of the one hundred-year anniversary of Camp Cajon.

The project was completed in July of 2019, with the dedication taking place on the camp's one-hundred year anniversary - July 4, 2019.

Above: the re-built monument. The plaque was added during the restoration, in order to honor William Bristol and the four organizations that re-built the monument. Photo by Scott Schwartz..