The Arrowhead Legends
A million men have wondered concerning the formation of the marvelous prehistoric landmark known as the Arrowhead, so clearly pictured upon the mountainside, in the foothills north of San Bernardino. Although the exact origin of the Arrowhead is apparently still undetermined, numerous legends, dealing with its supernatural creation, combining the fancy of superstition with the romance of fiction, have been extant among the Indian tribes and early settlers for many generations.
By actual measurement, the Arrowhead is 1,375 feet long and 449 feet wide, comprising an area
of 7 1/2 acres. The material of which it is composed is different in formation from adjacent parts of the mountain, consisting chiefly of disintegrated white quartz, and light gray granite, and supporting a growth of short white sage and weeds. This lighter vegetation shows in sharp contrast to the dark green growth of surrounding chapparal and greasewood. Not a few believe that this natural mark was made by a mountain cloudburst. This wonderfully formed symbol is a distinctive feature of the locality; it may be seen as far as the side of the mountain is in sight and is used as a display mark by many business concerns (such as Inland Empire Consultants) as well as some organizations.
Doctor D. N. Smith, who about 1860, sought to improve the boiling sulphurous springs at the base of the mountain, had a unique arrowhead story to tell. According to him, when a young lad, at a time when his father, who was a sufferer from consumption, lay sick unto death, an angel appeared to him in a vision, and pictured a place at the foot of a mountainside designated by a pointing arrowhead, where his father might be cured. Some years later, when Dr. Smith, coming to the San Bernardino Valley, saw the sign upon the mountain which he then named Arrowhead, he recalled the vision. Visiting the foot of the mountain, he found the springs which he discovered to be possessed of valuable medicinal properties and great curative powers.
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Coahuilla Legend
Generations ago, when the Evil Spirit dwelt in the mountains, the Coahuillas were a race of giants. Now the Evil Spirit took supreme delight in making life miserable for them. His favorite form of amusement was to roll down from the mountains huge boulders upon their rancheria and to pour drenching floods of water over the valley. The Indians naturally enough became weary of these mischievous attentions and wishing to arrange some sort of truce, one autumn day, after the evil one bad been especially active, decided to seek council with him.
So the giant Indian chief called the "Sacred Eagle," after first placing the white feather of a dove in his beak, sent him aloft to the abode of the evil one. The bird returned with the feather, and a score of the most powerful Indians scaled the Mountainside, and the council occurred. After some discussion, it was decided to play a game of cards for the possession of the valley. The Indians chanting a good luck gambling song, were fast winning, when the evil one, becoming enraged, seized an ace of spades and dashed it against the Mountainside with such angry force that the mountain opened, receiving him spluttering in its depths and the sulphurous hot springs at the mountain's base bear evidence of his continued presence beneath the rocks.
Another Legend from the Coahuillas
In the days of long ago, the Coahuillas dwelt across the mountains to the eastward, near San Luis Rey Mission. Now, although of a peace-loving disposition, they were constantly harassed by their warlike neighbors, who stole their ponies, devastated their fields and burned their jacales. At last the persecutions could no longer be endured and at command of their chief the tribesmen gathered in council for the purpose of calling upon the God of Peace to assist and direct them to another country where they might acquire a quiet homeland.
Now being a gentle people, so the tale runs, they found special favor with the great Spirit, by whom they were directed to travel westward, and instructed that they would be guided to their new home by a fire for which they must be constantly watching. The tribe started upon the journey, and one moonless night there appeared across the heavens a blazing arrow, which took its course westward, setting upon the mountain, where the shaft was consumed by fire, but the head embedded itself, clear cut, in the Mountainside. They became aroused, and resumed their journey, and located in the shadow of the mountain whereon was the arrowhead, and lived happily.
A Mormon Tale
It is related that when in the year 1851 Brigham Young desired to found a colony which was to be a resting place to the saints coming to this City of Zion from Europe and Australia, he sent out a party to select a location. Before his band of disciples started on their quest, however, he told the two leading elders of a vision that had appeared to him. He had beheld upon the side of a mountain the head of an arrow pointing down to a rich and fertile valley. When the party should come to this sign of the arrowhead, there in the valley to which it pointed, he enjoined them to stop, and found a new branch of Zion. After long, wearisome plodding through Utah and Nevada, the travelers came to the dreary stretch of Mojave Desert.
Nearly perishing from lack of water, thoroughly discouraged, they were on the point of turning back, when an angel appearing, admonished them to be of good cheer, continue their journey, and soon they would reach the land of their reward.
The following day they came to Cajon Pass, and from there viewed the beautiful San Bernardino Valley. The elders, beholding the great arrowhead defined against the dark green background, recognized this as the valley of their leader's vision. So here they settled, founding in San Bernardino one of the most healthy, prosperous offshoots Mormonism ever put forth, until 1857, when Brigham Young recalled them, most of them obeying the command.
Another Legend of the Arrowhead
Captain Manuel Santos, of the San Manuel Mission Indian Reservation, gave to his lifelong friend John Brown, Jr., well known pioneer of 1849, the following romantic Indian legend of the Arrowhead: which story the Indians believe as true, coming down to them in tradition from their ancestors for many generations.
This wonderful freak of nature, containing in area about twenty acres, lies about eight miles north of the City of San Bernardino on the side of a mountain, a portion of the San Bernardino range of mountains plainly visible for miles around. Its shape as a perfect arrowhead, gigantic in proportion, at once attracts the attention of all beholders. Tourists entering the San Bernardino Valley are eager to learn something of this wonderful phenomenon of nature.
Among the first inhabitants, the Mexicans and Americans, there are various mysterious legends, but none compare with the Indians for love and romance.
A great many years ago the San Bernardino Valley was inhabited by the Cahuilla, the Serrano and the Guachama tribes of Indians, the Guachamas occupying the center of the valley. Villages, or "rancherias" were scattered in various directions. Here the Indians lived in peace and happiness and had plenty to eat. Guachama means, in Indian, a place where there is plenty to eat. In the valley the hare, the rabbit, the quail, the duck and the goose abounded; along the foothills and mountains the deer and bear were numerous; the acorns, the juniper berries, the pinones (pine nuts), choke cherries, mescal and tunies (prickly pear), furnished varieties of food, provided bountifully by nature, justifying the Indians in calling the valley as the place of plenty to eat.
While enjoying this happiness these Indians discovered the curative qualities of the hot water near the base of this mountain, so they gathered there, partook of this hot water, bathed in it, and covered themselves with the warm mud.
In the course of time a village grew up, governed by one their chiefs. Among the family of this famous chief was a most beautiful dusky maiden, perfect in physical stature, with bewitching eyes and long, black hair over her shoulders. Two Indian braves fell in love with this charming beauty and pressed their devotions so earnestly that she found it difficult in preserving harmony between them. The observing old chief, realizing the situation, summoned the two lovers to appear before him, and announced their fate to them: that they must forthwith settle this love affair according to Indian custom. They must fight a duel with bows and arrows, the victor to have the hand of his daughter in marriage. He commanded one of these lovers to go along the mountain range west and hunt for the hardest flint rock among the crags and peaks to make arrowheads for the points of his arrows, and further directed him to have his quiver full and ready and in two weeks' time be prepared for his antagonist; the same orders the old chief gave to the other lover, bidding him to go eastward along the mountain range.
During these two weeks the old chief sent couriers to all the surrounding villages, Yucaipa, Potrero, Indio, Malki, Soboba, Coahuilla, Agua Caliente, Temescal, Temecula, Jarupa, Guachama and Cucamunyo, inviting the Indians from these rancherias to come to his village and witness the great duel that was to take place between two Indian braves, the conqueror to have his daughter in marriage. The momentous day arrived. Hundreds of Indians arrived eager to witness the tragedy. Just before the noon hour, the dignified old chief comes out of his wigwam; his squaw follows holding her daughter's hand. The two lovers are called and appear before the chief, with their bows and quivers filled with arrows pointed with arrowheads made of the hardest flint rock to be found on the mountain side. The chief makes an opening among the assembled Indians, and measures off forty paces and orders the braves to take their places and prepare for the mortal combat.
Death-like silence prevails. With a deep, penetrating voice the old chief asks the braves if they are ready--both signifying by a nod of the head they are--and at the command to fire, did so with lightning rapidity, when one of the braves falls with an arrow piercing his heart. The conqueror realizing the danger he had just escaped, and the prize he had won, in this his moment of triumph, approaches his victim, draws the arrow from his heart, the arrowhead saturated and dripping with blood, places it in his bow and fires it away up on the mountain side, where the winter's rains and the summer's suns have caused the arrowhead to grow and grow until it attained the size as you now see it on the mountain side, exciting the wonder and admiration of all beholders.
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