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I was hiking recently by an ancient ruin in the Jemez Mtns. and found a leather book with parchment pages, apparently from 1540! The pages tell an incredible tale, which I post. Sorry for the length, but to leave out detail would be wrong! For the readers of the tale adventure awaits. He who wrote this had his share of trials and tribulations, may those who follow him have better luck!
The text is posted as I found it with no changes, save for notes where it becomes illegible. To follow this, some homework is required, finding the treasure of the conquistador is sure to be a mental as well as physical challenge. The coordinates posted at the top of the cache page are where the book was located under some rocks, and are not linked to the story, but are posted to give the geocacher an idea of where this story takes place.
The Expedition Log of Don Diego Hildalgo Cruz
October 2 1539, Today I depart aboard the Nuestra de Moriella from Seville for the New World, where I know I am to find my fortune. I have graduated with top marks from the Academie de Magellan in the sciences of Geomancy and earned a masters level in the art of Navigation. I have been fortunate to study under the tutelage of Sebastan del Cano, the chief Captain-Lieutenant of Fernando de Magellan who finished the task of leading that expedition on the Grand Circumnavigation. With his guidance I have delved deep in to the new theory of longitude and with skillful wield of the astrolabe, almanak, and reticule hourglass, I can accurately plot and chart my marks to a level unknown to all but the most skilled cartographer. My kompas, a gift from del Cano himself, is of the latest design with the finest lodestone therein. Its finely inscribed golden face is graduated with sixty minutes and smaller fractions about its circumference, allowing my plotting of direction to greatest accuracy. North is referenced by the zero minute, East be the fifteen minute, the South be the thirtieth minute, and the reach of West, the direction I now travel is the minute of forty five. It is a fine instrument and I know it shall serve me well as I follow in the steps of Pizarro and Cortez to the gilded lands of the west.
(some pages missing here, others water stained and illegible)
January 1 1540, My greatest tributes and ablutions to the Blessed Virgin at the dawn of this Nuevo Ano, as this damnable ship reaches land at the port of Tampico, New Spain after this interminable voyage. Poor rations, demeaning work details, and inferior accommodations combined with these scurvy ridden fools who constitute the crew made for this hellish voyage. Alas, the worst is over and the gold awaits. Work details, for a nobleman no less! Bah!
January 5 1540, I have rounded out my expedition’s compliment. In addition to myself who serves as Commandante and Navigator general, I have my brother Hector Onate Cruz who despite his temperament will make an excellent enforcer of my direction. I have secured a Friar, Padre Periquine from a mission here in New Spain who will vouch for my claims before the Court of the Crown to legalize my discovered wealth and lands in addition to introducing the savages of the north to our blessed Religion. A great coup, Maximilio Los Changos has signed on, despite the fact that he is to be a scout for the expedition of Francisco Vasquez de Coronado also due to exploit the riches of the north. Maximilo has brought with him the finest known charts of the lands of the north, surely no small concern for the old dog Coronado and his ponderously large force, who I shall beat to each and every one of the seven cities of Cibola. Oh, to see his face as he views my family pennant flying from the crosses in the plazas of Cibola. Knowing that each city’s treasure is in now in my coffers and all the lands around are duly registered under the name of Cruz! Poblano Omidar, the strongest man from the Moriella and talented animal handler is my packload man. Zihuatec, a local savage who has seen the light of the way of the Lord and left his pagan ways, shall be our guide and interpreter as his clans hail from the lands north of the great river. With the providence of the almighty and our eight horses and six mules and this grand krewe, we shall travel light and fast to the golden cities of Cibola and retrieve our kingdoms.
January 6, 1540, Word has it that Coronado has discovered that his maps and eight horses and six mules are missing from his stock and a bounty is on our heads. I only told Omidar to procure fine animals, not steal them from a rival! We must leave tonight, the extra provisions I wanted will have to be won from the fertile lands of the north as we progress. Pulling Onate from his customary liaison with the ladies of the night he had purchased was difficult and will be a source of much grumbling in the upcoming days.
(page missing)
January 15, 1540, We fill our skins and flasks with water from the great river and make camp for a day of rest. The dryness of the land of New Spain as we ride north is shocking, it is not at all like the lands about Seville as I was led to believe. Zihuatec has recovered from the beating he received from Onate and is being allowed to eat once again. How dare he not hunt for us when told. If there is one thing Onate is good at it is showing a lesser man his place. Friar Periquine entertains us with stories from the bible as we ride and is source of good cheer for the men. All is well as we have come 97 leagues from Tampico. Maximilo tells us that this river should lead us to the heart of Cibola and we shall follow it and its verdant bosque. My navigations have thus far been perfect. Professor del Cano would be proud that I spend each evening and much of the day with astrolabe in hand and have great discipline in turning the hourglass. Today’s position is North 26 degrees 24.2 minutes north and West 98 degrees 59.3 minutes and making a course of 56 and 1/2 minutes on the kompas.
January 20 1540, We still made 10 leagues today despite the loss of a pack horse and a mule that fell into an arroyo. Omidar and Onate and Zihuatec butchered the beasts and took the prime cuts to dry in the sun for packing. We lost one sack of salt and some metal tradegoods for the people of the north, but alas, we probably won’t need them as out very appearance will compel the poor savages to submit. Position is N 28 degrees 14.5 minutes and 100 degrees 15 minutes E.
(pages illegible and smeared and stained purple as if by wine)
January 27 1540, 69 more leagues farther along, the river has turned to go west then southwest rather than north as Maximilio and his charts said it would, I am still angered that I caught my dear brother Hector Onate drinking Padre Periquine’s sacramental wine. I fought him and now the wine is gone. Padre will just have to make do. Onate is acting strangely and more angry that normal even for him. He has not said nor complained, but he is constantly making faces of pain and scratching at his... nether regions. I will have to watch him closely. I take this log and the small iron chest that contains our treasury from the packhorse and place it in a leather satchel that will not leave my person.
January 28 1540, Maximilio is dead, God have mercy on his soul, and ours. An argument started between he and I as the great river continued to turn south away from Cibola. He said we should continue to follow it as it would turn north again, but I countered that we could not, as the gold is north and by now Coronado surely has started his expedition and we must not waste days, did he want us to lose our fortunes?! He spoke that if I as Commandante of this expedition were not going to listen to him, that he just should go back to Coronado. As I prepared to counter his remarks a pistol report rang out, and Maximilio fell from his horse to the ground dead. Onate laughed as he put his gun away. “We travel faster now ay, Commandante” were the only words he said. Padre Periquine said a mass after we buried Maximilio. We take of new course 51 and 1/3 minutes away from the river to the gold of Cibola
February 8 1540, Ten days for making a course of 51and 1/3 minutes and we have come about 67 leagues, the rains make the ground muddy and slows the horses and the nights are bitter cold with only wet wood keeping fires from being possible. Worse yet, the place we are in is of salted earth, making the waters unable to drink and the lakes all around us foul, our skins and flasks run low. Padre Periquine’s stories are beginning to get repetitive.
February 14 1540, Another 32 Leagues continuing on 51 minutes. It has taken us a week. The rains have not stopped and many small streams are torrents. Two mules lost along with provisions in a stream crossing. Zihuatec has scouted fore and says that friendly natives are ahead who may help us with provisions. We do now have plenty of water. White earth surrounds us like snow. There is no food here. I estimate N32 degrees 49.6 minutes W 106 degrees 15.4 minutes
February 16 1540 we are crossing rugged mountains, much like the Pyrenees of the north of lovely Spain, with just as much snow, the cold is painful and to the bone as we load the horses with our supplies and walk behind to cower from the wind and ice. We pray with the Padre for better weather to no avail. Another mule dies and we tear into it like wolves and eat our fill before the flesh can go cold. We have seen natives in the distance but they withdraw as we approach. We are now making 52 and 1/2 minutes and I estimate some 12 leagues. I have not used the astrolabe and almanak for a week because of the weather.
February 19 1540 Praise the Virgin! We have left the brutal mountains that I feared would be our end, although I dared not express my doubt to the men. The valley has clear skies and dry earth and our travel progresses again. Onate’s soreness is worse and he contributes less and less to the hunting and carrying but remains in good spirits, sometimes. Zihuatec and Omidar have gone ahead to hunt, they seem to be becoming good friends. This can only help the expedition I believe. A good day for navigation, we have come nearly 6 leagues on the 44 and ½ minute course since the last entry.
February 20 1540, Omidar and Zihuatec have yet to return, we do not travel today.
February 21 1540, No sign of our scouts, we grow restless. I fear the worst may have happened. I, Onate, and the Padre have a mass to beseech their safe return.
February 22 1540, Omidar and Zihuatec return, but without the horses or any fresh meat. They say the horses ran off while they were stalking game on foot in the hills a few leagues ahead and then they had to walk back to the camp. Lost was much powder and a musket and water flasks. Omidar was not wearing his armor or helmet, I asked if that ran off too. He did not answer. Zihuatec seems to have new moccasins. We break camp and travel on a new heading of zero minutes due north, to the Heart of Cibola! The men ride, Zihuatec now walks.
February 24 1540, two days of travel through a land of brimstone. It is sharp black rock all around with only the cactus and the feral howling dogs to keep company. The wind spares us no mercy and a red dust comes from the north to sting our eyes. We all must walk as the horses have no purchase on this cursed stone. Six and one half leagues since the last on the north reach. No sign of the great river and the lush land. Where, God, has it gone?
February 26 1540, Rain and mud and just short of 6 leagues for two days, our boots are leaden with heavy layers of cloying filth we dare not ride for fear that the animals may break a leg. We reach the great river again but are so wearied by the conditions we have no strength to celebrate as we make camp and slumber. I manage to take a navigation mark with great difficulty N 33 degrees 50. 12 minutes W 106 degrees 50.14 minutes.
February 27 1540, I give the order to break camp and continue north along the great river, the men do not react, morale is low. I ask Onate to fetch the horses and he only laughs then has one of his fits that are becoming more pronounced. My authority is being questioned, am I the only one who can see the riches ahead? After some debate I agree to make camp here at the river until better conditions come. Zihuatec looks to the sky and feels the soil then says the warm season will come soon. I can only pray it comes soon enough to get what I know we deserve.
(pages missing, appear to be burned)
March 29 1540, Zihuatec, Omidar, and I returned to camp today with food from the Shamish pueblo, located about league and a half up the great river from our winter camp. For savages they have been helpful to our cause, providing maize, waterfowl, and squash for our larder. It is good the news of our deeds at Hakuni three weeks ago have not spread here. I must not take Onate into the native villages if native women are about. I will never speak of those events again and nay shall anyone else with me. As for these Shamish, they have no horses or beasts of burden and have nothing I considered valuable in a treasure sense. Despite repeated requests I have no gold from them. When I mention Cibola to them they simply sit in silence as if they did not understand. They must know, I think they are hiding the truth despite their hospitality. Padre Periquine has had little success with them and he has grown frustrated, this frustration plus the worsening feud between him and my brother bedevil us as we plan to break winter camp and finally start north again, to the gold.
April 1 1540, 15 and ½ leagues up river and no gold yet, plenty of game to hunt. Zihuatec has taught Omidar much of the local native tongue and they converse in it regularly, it is starting to bother me more now that we are on the move again. I should really like to find more horses as impossible as I know this is. We make such worse time when half the party must walk. Fortunately, it is understood by all that the Commandante never walks.
April 4 1540, Another 14 leagues north. God, forgive my trespass against Padre Periquine, I did not mean to disrespect a man of the cloth but I simply could not stand to hear the tale of Moses 40 years wandering the desert for the 300th time since this expedition began. I pray his arm heals after his “accident” in the campfire as he is a good man. After we get our gold I will make it up to him with new vestments, the old ones had become threadbare anyway. Otherwise, the place we are in now is sparsely populated with small native houses of mud but the broad plain to the east of the river reaching toward impressive mountains would be hospitable for a great city someday. Computation with astrolabe, almanak, kompas, and hourglass yield our position as N 35 degrees 5 minutes and exactly zero seconds W 106 degrees 38 minutes and exactly zero seconds.
(page torn out)
9 April 1540, I sent Omidar and the Padre out to hunt with local savages from this place we have come upon called Kuaua which is directly on the great river 5.85 leagues on the 2/3 of a minute from our position of April 4th. Onate, and I did not want them present as today we used necessary means to finally get the unholy pagan chief to tell us where the golden cities are. After days of imploring him through Zihuatec and getting the same answer as I had from other peoples I had encountered in the south, Onate’s pistol and sword proved better than Zihuatec’s words in the end. With great pleasure I write here than the chief told us to travel the stream to the west and into the mountains, the great houses we seek are there. I took an accurate mark of the southwest corner of this large square pueblo of Kuaua and will use it as a reference point for the journey into Cibola!
11 April 1540, 5 and 1/10 leagues from Kuaua on exactly the 52nd minute of heading. How can this be? I beseech the Virgin to tell me! How can there be whole peoples whose highest accomplishment is mud, sharpened sticks, and broken rocks! I have come now across a people who have no name I can understand, who dwell, like everyone else here in more houses of mud. There is no gold, or jewelry or art, save for crude earthen bowls and a symbol they call the T’sia that they seem to revere for no discernible reason. I have drawn the symbol in my log in hopes that it may mean treasure to other peoples farther up the canyon, where I intend to go. Under Onate’s gleeful interrogation, this chief here too told us to go up the western stream to the mountains. These T’sias have a large whitewashed circular ceremonial chamber in the south of the village called a kiva. I have marked it as N 35 degrees, thirty minutes and seventeen and 8/10ths seconds by 106 degrees west, forty three minutes and (text smeared and illegible from water stain). I will use this too to triangulate positions in the mountains. In addition I counted the steps that lead up into this chamber that are on the east side. I have memorized this number and may use it to encode locations from my companions, who I am starting to trust less, particularly Omidar, who seems to be going savage.
12 April 1540, Onate is unwell, and I worry. The Padre, despite his dislike, is trying to help him, but to no avail. I think his affliction is beyond prayer. His fits over the past weeks have gone from merely depraved to outright evil, and his appearance is despoiled by foul sores across his chest and neck and compounded by his incessant scratching and outbursts. While he is helpful in this state in prying information from the savages, his zeal for destruction is spreading. This day he did slay all the pack animals by dagger while the rest of us were gathering water. We are down now to one horse only, we will have to abandon almost all supplies and rations. With only one horse, it will take all of providence to get us beck to New Spain let alone to Cibola, wherever that may be.
15 April 1540, Fortune may finally be upon us, we have entered a grand valley of red rocks and fertile lands in which a people called the He’mish dwell. The He’mish appear friendly and helpful although they are always well armed with fine bows and long stone knives. They tell us of their great houses with gleaming adornments that lie on the mesas above the valley and up the valley itself, at last this must be Cibola!
16 April 1540, We travel with the company of some He’mish toward a great village they called Giusewa. We just left a smaller village of Walatowa where we were fed well and entertained by savage dance. There was no gold there that I could see, but our spirits are high for what we will find in the great houses. A curious rock shaped exactly like a Spanish helmet caught my eye and produced a great outpouring of laughter from me as I drew it in the log and took a navigation mark, with the utter absurdity of seeing such a familiar shape in this inhospitable land. Suddenly though, the laughter gave way to deep unbidden sadness and fear, as the realization of our distance from all that I know and love in my beloved Spain and our precarious plight flooded my senses. I pray fervently that I will survive this ordeal, even more so than I now pray for gold and riches. Position N thirty five degrees, thirty (smeared by dirt and illegible) and 6/10 seconds by west one hundred six degrees forty three minutes, twenty nine and 7/10 seconds. 3.26 leagues on the 58 and 1/5 minute from the T’sia kiva and 7.94 leagues on exactly the 54 and 1/3 minute from the Kuaua pueblo.
16 April 1540, I pray to God almighty, to the blessed Virgin, to The heavenly Host, and to all the Saints for forgiveness for what I have done this night. After making camp I was awaked by screams in the darkness. Leaping to my feet I saw, in the glow of the campfire, my dear poor brother Onate swinging furiously with his dagger, plunging it deeply into the limp form of Padre Periquine. I rushed toward him in rage, and although I was unarmed, I did have the iron treasure box close at hand as always. Onate turned toward me with a demonic gaze splattered with the Padre’s blood, and the most wicked grin I had ever seen in all my days. I struck him repeatedly about the head with the iron box with a ferocity I could not control. When I finished, the rage having been exhausted, Onate lay dead at my feet. I now see not gold, but the fires of hell in my future.
17 April 1540, I trust no one now, not even myself. As I, Zihuatec, and Omidar approach Giusewa, which lay a few leagues up the valley, I send them ahead and tell them I shall catch up. When they are out of sight, I scout a hiding place for the iron treasure box, which I fear will be taken from me I carry it further. I jump across the flowing stream at the valley bottom and spy a small niche high in the wall of the valley. I climb to it and place the box in it, but not before covering it with a thin paste of adobe mud to make it blend with the native rocks. The slope I climbed has no trail and is steep and rough with loose rocks in places. I drink from my water flask often. Returning to the valley floor, about 1000 spans below, I ford the shallow stream again then climb to a small flat topped promontory about 230 spans up on the opposite side of the valley from where I take a sighting to the box location. I cut two perfectly straight saplings, one exactly 5 and ¼ spans and the other 4 and 1/5 spans and arrange them as shown in the figure I have drawn. The taller one is held vertically with rocks at the center of a circle of fourteen small white stones at the promontory top and the shorter is set 5 and 1/3 spans from it also aligned to the zenith. The tops of taller sighting rod at the circle’s center and the shorter one 5 and 1/3 spans away form a sight line directly to the hiding niche when the rods are aligned with the peak of a nearby pointed boulder which I have drawn. The promontory with the circle is located by triangulation. Along the valley floor I scouted three marks. One is a curiously bent cottonwood tree which I have drawn. The tree’s position is N 35 degrees, forty three minutes, and nine and 1/10 seconds by 106 degrees, forty three minutes and eight (smeared by water mark). It is 1.68 leagues on the 5X and 4/25 minute from the Helmet Rock. X is the number of steps in the T’sia kiva, counting the top step. The next mark is an old small adobe ruin some 1,215 spans north of the bent tree on exactly the 58th minute of heading. The last mark is a great and full cottonwood tree I shall call the Spanish Queen, as it reminds me of one planted by Queen Isabella herself in the palace court. It lies to the north of a cluster of smaller trees, and stands alone 1, 701 spans from the ruins on the ½ minute of heading from them. The sighting promontory lies on the 26 and 1/3 minute from the Spanish Queen, the 17 and 4/5 minute from the ruins, and the 5 and (smeared yet again) minute from the bent tree. My treasure now hidden, I go to Giusewa.
18 April 1540, This is not Cibola! All this way I have come and still I have nothing to show but broken bits of pottery that lay in my treasure box hidden 1.5 leagues south from here. This Giusewa is the greatest house of the He’mish and is nothing but mud and rocks like all the rest I have seen on this damnable voyage. Their glittering adornments are nothing by shiny black rocks they use to make their weapons and knives. The savages have no idea what gold even is. I contemplate a return to Tampico and then back to Spain, but the thought of the dishonor of it all makes my heart grow heavy. We will stay here for some days to rest as I consider our next course.
25 April 1540, Omidar is gone. He stopped answering my orders and demanded to be referred to by his new name, Teec’nos. He then showed me a savage woman he has taken for a wife and left to go to the village of the T’sias. I do not care. Good riddance. Zihuatec is still here to my surprise. I would never have thought that of all the companions on this expedition, the savage would be the one to stay by my side.
27 April 1540, I fear for my life from the He’mish warriors. Yesterday a runner came into the village and excitedly told the chief news about a great tragedy that happened a moon ago to the southwest. Zihuatec translated the story to me as it was told and as I listened, I felt my blood run cold. An entire village of the Zuni people was massacred down to the last woman and child by a paleface called Coronado. As this was said I could feel the eyes of the He’mish lay upon me. With not a word the He’mish men grabbed me held me down. They took all of my weapons and navigation equipment save for this logbook and threw it into the fire. Zihuatec watched without expression. They barricaded me in a small room where I remain and blocked the door with a heavy stone. I am truly lost
(ink is a different color a reddish brown color and much fainter)
5 June 1540? I am not sure. Much has happened since my last entry. All for the worst. I was imprisoned by the He’mish for some weeks with little water and food. One day Zihuatec came to my cell and passed me my flint and striker folded in a lump of bread. That night, very late during a strong storm of lightning and thunder, I heard the stone move from my door and was pulled free by Zihuatec. We crept quietly to the village granary where I set fire to the stock of maize and dried foods inside, and in the commotion we made our escape to the night. We ran as fast as our legs would carry us to the south toward the hidden treasure box, which I intended to retrieve as it would aid our journey back toward Tampico. We climbed the slippery, wet and rocky slope as I led by memory, as my sighting rods had been taken with the rest of my possessions. At the hiding site, I stumbled along the cliff wall, looking for the niche above my head by the light of lightning. As I spied it, a brilliant thunderbolt hit the cliff above us and there was a great rumbling from above as the thunder subsided. A rain of boulders poured upon us and crushed us on the narrow shelf of land where we stood. I was struck by giant rock I could not see but could only feel the searing pain of my legs as it crushed them and pinned me. I heard poor Zihuatec’s scream fade away with the rumbling as he was swept off of the cliff to his death below. I passed out as the storm drowned out my cries. I write this now by my own blood that seeps from my wounds the day after these events, still trapped by this cursed boulder. I pray for salvation but I get nothing put punishment, I am lost and forsaken.
8 June 1540, I still live. The vermin have found my left leg, still under the rock, dead. My right is free but to no avail. I am dying slowly, just as do my dreams of Cibola, which I know now, does not exist.
9 June 1540, The boulder shifts and rolls and I pull myself from under it. My leg is severed at the waist. The pressure of the rock upon me has kept my lifeblood from leaving me. The right leg is undamaged but will not move. I am mad and weak with hunger and thirst. I reach for my severed limb and proceed to eat it like a wild dog. I see my sighting promontory some 4,000 spans away at I guess to be the 15th minute from me.
11 June 1540, I live yet. I find myself mute and unable climb down from the valley wall. The meat of my leg has strengthened me slightly but its foulness has set in my throat and swollen it to silence. Far below I see the unthinkable. Men. Men from Spain, with helmets and horses and flags, moving slowly up the valley. It is a miracle! It must be Coronado! God be praised!
12 June 1540, They did not see me. I could not call to them. I could not climb down to my saviors below. At noon two men started to climb the slope toward me and in an attempt to catch their eye I thrashed about with all my strength. I only succeeded in getting rocks to slide down the slope and when they saw this they turned and ran, never laying eyes upon me. I watched as the shadows grew longer the expedition did break camp and march back out the valley to the south.
15 June 1540, I will not die here, bleached bones on this God forsaken rock. I can stand on my leg. I am getting down from here. I am going back to Spain, and neither God or the Devil himself can stop me. I climb atop the accursed boulder and reach up toward the box in its niche, not to take it, but to place the picked bones of my severed leg beside it. I am leaving them, the chest, and this book as they are too heavy to carry in my injured state. Alas, maybe someday they will be found and tell an interesting tale. The tale of a man and his search for gold, greatness, and destiny. The tale of a Conquistador.
Additional Hints
(Decrypt)
Rznvy Urybqevire@ubgznvy.pbz, V unir gur bevtvany grkg naq jvyy ervagrecerg vg sbe pyhrf vs gur frnepure vf ubcryrffyl fghpx.