Applegater Fall 2009 21
BACK IN TIME
Cure-alls at Cinnabar Springs
BY EVELYN BYRNE WILLIAMS
Annual
Maintenance
Overturns
Murphy’s Law
with Bob Quinn
T
his magical place, Cinnabar Springs,
where the “healthy water” was drunk
and bathed in to take care of all kinds
of illnesses back in the old days, was located
in the Siskiyou Mountains just south of the
Oregon-California border. Some interesting
old photos show people staying there for long
periods of time in temporary quarters they
made from supplies brought with them. My
Byrne family was there several times in the
early 1900s. They went on horseback over
the mountains from their home on Squaw
Creek (now covered by the Applegate Lake).
How I wish I had asked them more about
that time in their life. Evidently drinking the
Cinnabar water didn’t do them any harm,
but did it do them any good? It contained
the principal ore of mercury, a mineral and
mercuric sulfide.
In one of my scrapbooks I found
this account written by Drew Clerin for the
Medford Mail Tribune about 1958. I find
it too interesting to leave any of it out, so
here it is…
“During the summer of 1907, our
family, father, mother and five kids, camped
out at Cinnabar Springs. We took with us
from Portland two tents, sundry camping
equipment and supplies of all sorts sufficient
for our two-month stay. I remember that we
purchased canvas, cut it up into bed sizes
and installed grommets through which rope
would run to fasten the canvas mattresses to
frames which we planned to construct from
small logs at our destination. They worked
like a charm.
My dad cashed a check at the bank
and brought home a stack of $20 gold pieces,
ten in number, which was sufficient to pay
for transportation and living expenses for
our two-month camping trip.
We took the Southern Pacific train
to Medford, then the narrow gauge from
Medford to Jacksonville, and a horse-drawn
vehicle from Jacksonville to the Saltmarsh
farm on the Applegate River. We five
youngsters slept in the hay in the Saltmarsh
barn. Early next morning, Mr. Saltmarsh
saddled the horses, loaded the pack animals
and we headed south over some 20 miles
or so of narrow mountain trails, across the
California line a couple of miles to Cinnabar
Springs.
The horses and mules knew every
inch of the trail and never so much as
stumbled on the rocky trail over the Siskiyou
divide between the Applegate and Klamath
River watersheds.
Cinnabar Springs was located in
a rugged canyon through which ran a
beautiful mountain stream, one of the forks
of Beaver Creek that flows into the Klamath.
The entire area was covered with the most
beautiful stand of sugar pine I have ever seen.
I was only 12 and seven of these years were
spent in Aberdeen, Wash., at the turn of the
century. Aberdeen in 1900 was in the heart
of the Douglas fir forest of the Olympic
peninsula and stands of virgin timber were
beautiful to behold but the sugar pine in
the Cinnabar area was majestic beyond
description and made an impression on
me that will last my life time.
The main mineral spring was
roofed over by an octagon shaped spring
house, open at the sides, with benches
that surrounded the pool which was five
or six feet in diameter. Each of the men
who was taking the mineral water cure
had staked out squatter’s rights to a seat on
the bench. Each had an empty quart size
tomato can to serve as a drinking cup and
behind his seat he tacked a piece of paper
on which he tallied the number of quarts
consumed each day. The can was dipped
in the pool, the contents consumed and
a tally mark entered on the sheet.
Par for the course, as I remember,
was in the neighborhood of 20 quarts a
day. Competition was fierce in the matter
of establishing and beating records for
liquid consumption. These old gentlemen
spent hours on the spring house bench.
Numerous and varied were the topics
discussed and a great deal of boasting
was indulged in on the subject of their
liquid capacity.
One old fellow was the
acknowledged champion of the entire
field with a specialty no one could equal.
He would fill his quart can to the brim
and down the entire contents without
removing it from his lips. With highly
charged, ice-cold mineral water, this was
an accomplishment which was the envy
of all the other contestants. Of course, he
would only perform if a suitable audience
were present.
Generally there were 10 to 12
couples who participated in the Saturday
night dances. Square dances were the rule
and often one or two youngsters were
recruited to fill out the squares. It was
my impression that the quicksilver mine
on the ridge at the south was practically
a one-man operation. Gossip had it that
the mine owner shipped out his flasks of
quicksilver in the early fall, one on each
side of a mule packsaddle. The pack train
was driven over the Siskiyou summit to
Jacksonville, six or so mules making up
the train. On the return trip, each mule
was supposed to have carried two kegs
of whiskey, which was the winter supply
for the mine owner. I know that several
of the ladies at the camp were shocked at
the amount of whiskey required for one
winter’s use. They were quite sure that the
mine owner— I have forgotten his name—
would drink himself to death. Perhaps he
did. He was in his 80s at the time. I have
neglected a comment on the qualities of the
healthy water. I cannot vouch personally for
the medicinal virtues of Cinnabar Springs
mineral water but I can talk with authority
about its quality.
The water in the main spring was ice
cold and so highly charged with soda that
it would bubble through one’s nose like
champagne. After drinking it for several
days one would develop a taste for it to the
extent that ordinary pure-mountain water
suffered by comparison.
I remember that after we returned
to Portland on some of the hot September
days I would develop a craving for Cinnabar
Springs water that Bull Run could not
satisfy.
Cinnabar Springs is still within the
borders of the Klamath National Forest
and it is possible that so-called progress has
not yet polluted the beautiful streams and
destroyed the sugar pine forest.”
I also wonder what it looks like
today. It was over 50 years ago that my
husband and I went there one day hoping to
find what was left. I don’t remember there
being much. I was more interested in the
drive getting there. Too bad that I did not
take any photos of at least what remains.
Evelyn Byrne Williams
541-899-1443.
Photos:
Top left: the Kubli Family
Top right: Members of the Byrne Family
Bottom: Members of the Byrne Family. No
other people in the photo have been identified
The Murphy’s Law for wells &
pump systems is - they will cease
to function primarily at a time
when the need for them is the
greatest.
This same law applies to the
family car, of course, and if you
think it makes you mad to be
without transportation for a
time, you don’t even want to
know how it feels not to be able
to run the tap for a drink of
water, or for a shower or, even
worse, to flush the toilets. Oh,
did I mention that this usually
happens when you have out-of-
town guests in your home? The
answer is an annual main -
tenance check and service for
your well’s pump system.
Similar to the annual tune-up
for your vehicle or regular oil
changes, the annual pump
maintenance helps to ensure
the smooth functioning of your
water system. A qualified serv -
ice technician should examine
the pump, check to see that it is
functioning properly, make cer -
tain that the amperage is nei -
ther too high or low, and check
the points on the motor. Such
annual maintenance can help
avoid future problems and
should also reveal whether the
pressure tank is waterlogged.
Would You
Believe...
To process
one chicken we
need 44 litres
(11.6 gal.)
of water!
Bob Quinn is the owner of Quinn’s
Well Drilling and Pump Service
located at 6811 Williams Hwy.
We provide well drilling, plus we
install, maintain and repair complete
water pumping systems. Contact our
professional staff by phone, e-mail, or
visit our office. quinnswell.com
862-9355