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THE LOST MINE OF NARANXAL- Which is THE REAL TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE


November 2002

Humberto Rosas Martinez
Jeffrey Lee Coughlan
William Antonio Solis


Part 1
The Jesuits, the Grandees, and the Indians
by Jeff Coughlan, with H. Martinez and W. Solis


EL NARANXAL is the name given to a mine and town established by Spanish Jesuits in the early 1600's, in a remote barranca deep in the Sierra Madre mountain range of central Mexico. The mine produced vast amounts of gold and silver for its owners over the next two hundred years, and many believe that El Naranxal was the second most productive gold mine in North America. 

When the Jesuits were ordered out of colonial Spain during the Jesuit Suppression of 1768, the mine was passed into the hands of the "Grandees" - three family patriarchs of the aristocratic class of Nueva Espana (New Spain). 

These new owners concealed the continuing operation of El Naranxal for thirty years, probably to avoid paying the required taxes, such as the "king's fifth" and the Church's "diezmo". They would also have been required to explain how they came into possession of a valuable mine that would have normally been taken over by representatives of the Church.

Thirty years later, in 1798, they publicly declared ownership and filed their official paperwork, registering the mine in the colonial capital of Guadalajara. In these documents the Grandees gave the mine the new name of "El Naranjo".

The next twelve years, leading up to the Mexican War of Independence, were turbulent ones for the aristocracy, both in Spain and in the Colonies of the New World. The only men authorized to hold the most important positions of power in Nueva Espana were the "peninsulares", or Spanish-born, while the great majority of the aristocracy was made up of the "criollos", or colonial-born Spaniards. Tensions between the two groups had been increasing, and would soon lead to more generalized conflict and outright revolution. It was in this political climate that the Spanish king ordered all the big mines in Nueva Espana closed, so as to deny their wealth to the criollos and their supporters.

The Grandees followed the King's instructions to close the mine, but also made plans to conceal its location. In approximately 1808 the Grandees murdered their Indian workers, after having them tear down all the buildings to their foundations, and plant tree saplings to hide the foundations from casual observers. Everything they could not take with them was stowed inside of the mine, then the mine entrance was closed up and the Grandees left El Naranjo in a huge mule train loaded with gold and silver.

El Naranxal (later El Naranjo) was in the traditional territory of the Tepehuanes Indians, who had allowed the mine and town to be established, and had developed relationships with the Jesuits, and later the Grandees, to provide the labor to work the mine. Upon learning that his people at the mine had been betrayed and murdered, the chief of the Tepehuanes set out in pursuit of the Spaniards, with his warriors at his back. He chased down and killed the offenders, and took back with him everything they had, including the mules, the gold, and some papers that neither he nor his tribal elders could interpret. The mules were put to use, the gold given to the craftsmen, and the papers were placed in an animal skin wrap and stored away, along with other papers that previous chiefs had found mysterious but of potential value. These papers, including the owners' certificates and mine documents, would stay in storage for over a hundred years. 

Generations came and went, governments rose and fell, and knowledge of the true location of the once famous El Naranxal faded into history. Until now.

We have four historical documents that show the location and ownership of the lost mine of Naranxal. The first, created in 1702, is a word map (or "rotero") written by a Spanish Jesuit named Thomas Jola at the direction of his superior, Padre Juan Bladillo Gomez Menendez y Juarez. This rotero describes the location of the mine using "caballenas", the measurement of the time, and makes reference to local landmarks including villages, rivers, and arroyos. The original of this document is lost or destroyed; we have a copy made by hand in 1937.

The second and third documents are the deed and contract filed by the Grandees with the royal colonial government in 1798. Both of these documents contain the names of the three Grandees: Don Carlos Alfaro, Don Juan Vizcarra, and Don Carlos Cordova. The contract also contains their individual signatures.

The deed, dated March 14, describes the area and location of the mine using Spanish "varas", and contains the names and signatures of two government representatives, Don Leon Pizarro and Don Jose Bustamante. 

The contract, dated March 16, names Don Alfaro as the honorary chief of the enterprise, with Don Vizcarra and Don Cordova as the first and second administrators. It also gives the mine the new name of "El Naranjo". 

We have the originals of these documents. The only known copies were destroyed, along with the colonial government building housing them, during the War of Independence. 

The fourth document is a map showing the location of the mine in relation to the local pueblos, roads, and rock and water features. A Mexican priest drew this map in the early 1920's; we have the original copy.

These four documents, created in three different time periods, are consistent with one another regarding the location of the lost mine of Naranxal. That information, along with additional proprietary information uncovered by Mr. Humberto Rosas Martinez, has resulted in three expeditions to the area. Mr. Martinez has located the ruins of the town, the original garden of non-native medicinal herbs ("Xachacal"), and the mine entrance. All that remains is to open the mine in front of media witnesses who can document the discovery.

We would like to make arrangements for compensated coverage and documentary rights to the story and the mine opening. We are also interested in hearing from potential expedition investors. Contact Jeff Coughlan at: jeleco@hotmail.com 

El Naranxal has been looked for, speculated upon, and written about for generations. Many references exist, and interested persons are encouraged to seek them out. Here are a few to get you started:


GOLDEN MIRAGES, by Philip A Bailey

THE MAN WHO LIKES MEXICO, by Wallace Gillpatrick

APACHE GOLD AND YAQUI SILVER, by J. Frank Dobie

Please note that reference variations include both "Naranxal" and "Naranjal".
The Story of THE LOST MINE OF NARANXAL Which is THE REAL TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE

Part Two:

The Tales of the Documents

Consisting of:

1. The Indian Chief and the Priest
2. The Nephew, his Girlfriend, and her Brother
3. The Old Man and the Student

by Jeff Coughlan, with H. Martinez


The Indian Chief and the Priest

The priest knew that he was about to die - the soldiers were almost through the ironbound wooden doors of the church. He had not thought that they would dare to follow him here, onto the holy ground of the church. He had closed and barred the thick doors of his sanctuary after fleeing from the gold crazed commandante of the local garrison, who had demanded that he share the secret of the hidden treasure. The commandante had learned of his secret from the family running the pueblo's general store - and the priest dearly hoped that the old grocer and his family were still alive. The two of them had saved the town from starvation, using the gold bar that the priest had recovered from the old Spanish mine and given to the shopkeeper to buy supplies of cornmeal and flour for the townspeople. The times had been very bad recently, not just for the Republic's priests, but also for the poor people of the countryside, who were often caught up in the turbulence of the "Guerra de Christeros" -- the conflict between the Mexican government and the Catholic Church. Hunger and illness were always present, but the arguments between the politicians and the bishops over land reform and political power had finally come to a boiling point, and the resulting turmoil was devastating the nation.

The priest had been sorely beaten, and had eventually given up the location of the old documents he had received from the Indian Chief. The Tepehuanes were good Christians, having been brought into the Church some years earlier. With the government threatening the Church and her priests, the Chief of the Tepehuanes had decided to share the papers that his father's fathers had passed down to him. He knew some Spanish, but the style and wording of the old papers had defied his efforts. His hope was that they might be helpful to the region's only priest, whom he liked and admired. The Priest had sought out the mine, and had brought one of the "lingotes de oro" back with him - the large "breadloaf" bars of gold that had been shipped two to a mule in the old days. He had then hidden the papers in a chest in his private quarters, but had been forced to admit their existence and location to the cruel and angry soldiers. Now the Capitan was saying that the papers weren't there, and that he was going to kill the "lying priest". 

The priest braced himself on the altar of the church that he had devoted the better part of his life to, and wondered what hand of fate had intervened to keep the Naranxal Mine documents out of the hands of the Capitan and his soldados. He barely noticed when the door was broken in and footsteps echoed loudly off the hard tile floor. He seemed not to hear the yelling of the Capitan and the soldiers, and he never saw the muzzle flash of the pistola. He was looking forward to finally gazing upon the face of God, and never felt the lead ball that tore into the back of his skull and splattered his blood across the altar and the golden communion cup. 


The Nephew, his Girlfriend, and her Brother

His new Girlfriend was a beauty. She had been leading him along for weeks, and now her evident excitement promised a memorable afternoon for the two of them. They had the house pretty much to themselves while her parents were out - her older Brother had been acting as chaperone for the last few hours, while they had poured over the old documents that his uncle had brought back from the Indians in La Cumbre. The oldest was more than two HUNDRED years old, and the feel of the parchment in their hands had brought a strange awareness of time and history that excited them. The girl's brother had finally left them to themselves, and things were just starting to warm up when they were rudely interrupted by a loud pounding at the front door. And was that someone yelling out his name? Damn! Only a few friends even knew he was here - could this girl have a boyfriend, or, God forbid, a fiancée, that he didn't know about? The pounding continued while he tried to gather his thoughts, along with his pants and his shoes. He hoped that whoever it was didn't have a gun and was fat, because he knew he was a fast runner if he could get into the open. And now the damn-fool brother was opening the door! What was he going to do?

As he finished slipping on his shoes he thought that maybe he recognized a voice in the parlor. Screwing up his courage, he peeked around the corner, and there, talking to the girl's brother, was his best friend. He let go the breath he had been holding and started to relax. Then just as he began to think that maybe he wasn't going to die today, the two of them turned to look in his direction, and the grim set of their faces told him that something was still very, very wrong. Ten minutes later he was running as fast as he had ever run in his life, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and this crazy town where the soldiers were killing priests and looking for their nephews.

The girl was still crying as she gave the papers to her brother. They both hoped that the Nephew would escape the soldiers, and that the Capitan would never figure out that he had been to their home. The brother took the old documents to one of his boyhood hiding spots, and only looked at them when he was alone there. Time passed, and six months later their father was offered a job in the States; the whole family was going to America. The girl's brother retrieved the papers, and packed them up with his other belongs. He did not know it at the time, but he would never see his native Mexico again.

The Old Man and the Student

The Old Man was learning Portuguese, and studying Spanish literature. He had worked for the railroad for most of his seventy-odd years (he was never sure exactly how old he was), and now in his retirement he was catching up on many of the things he had always wanted to do. His children were all grown, and they had presented him with a startlingly large number of grandchildren, whose names he frequently got wrong and whom he spoiled terribly. 

One of the things he had always planned on doing was to learn more about the old "Naranxal Mine" documents that had come into his hands as a child, that crazy day when his kid sister's boyfriend-of-the-month had fled from their home in terror. They had worried for days that the soldiers from the garrison would come looking for him. But the soldiers never came, and a few months later the family had moved up to Alta California for his father's new job.

He had looked at the documents periodically over the years, but there had always been more immediate demands on his time -- work, marriage, family, and a thousand other things. Now he was taking advantage of the relative freedom of his "golden years" to study at the University, both to learn more about the old Spanish mines, and to find people who might be able to help him go back to the Sierra Madre mountains of his childhood to search out this "Naranxal" which the papers described. The professors he approached had been polite but skeptical - his story of hidden treasure and a centuries old mine seemed too far-fetched to be true. Anyway, how could this unremarkable old man have the key to something as potentially important as this? Surely someone would have found this place already, if it was even for real. 

The Student that the Old Man was waiting for had his own stories to tell, including the tale of the hit man hired to kill him, who had worked his way into the family as a trusted handyman, then attacked Martinez. His wife's ferocious rage and skillful use of an unloaded shotgun (as a club) had saved his life. The student was still carrying around one of the would-be killer's bullets in his head, where it had lodged after passing through an optic nerve and blinding his left eye. This was only one of many tales the Student had told him over the last year of their friendship, and the Old Man believed that the Student's background and personal history would enable him to appreciate the story the Old Man was about to reveal to him. He looked at the documents again: the "rotero" written by a Jesuit in 1702, the deed and contract that the three "Grandees" had created in 1798, and the map that the priest in his childhood hometown had drawn by hand. Perhaps this young man, The Student named Humberto Rosas Martinez, would be the one he could finally trust with his secret.

Months passed, and Martinez, who had been not only receptive but actually encouraging, had brought the Old Man many articles and story excerpts; the fruits of his extensive research efforts. They testified to the historical presence of the great mine - one of the richest producers in Nueva Espana (New Spain), which had stretched from the Great Salt Lake in what is now Utah down through Texas and Mexico to the area that became Honduras. The two of them had made plans to travel to the Mexican State of Durango, inland from Mazatlan, in order to search out the signs and landmarks described in the various documents. The Old Man's family, however, had objected most strenuously to this idea, and had argued against it for weeks. He would have an accident, a heart attack, a stroke he would fall off his mule, fall and break a hip, fall and tumble down a mountainside. He would be attacked by bandits, by drug runners, by Indians he would be stung by a scorpion, bitten by a snake, carried off by a jaguar. He would, no doubt, be taken advantage of by strangers, overcharged by unscrupulous merchants, and abused by seemingly trustworthy companions. He might even end up being deceived and abandoned by this Martinez fellow, whom he had befriended at the University. He had firmly withstood this onslaught for weeks, and planned to continue to do so.

At what would be their final meeting, Mr. Martinez had to tell the Old Man that he would be unable to make the journey with him. The Old Man's family had said flat out that they did not trust him, and that if the Old Man died for any reason on the trip, then they would prefer murder charges against him. 

The Old Man was devastated at the prospect of abandoning his life long dream, and giving up on the idea that he would ever see his boyhood home again. His family had raised many practical objections, some of which may even have had merit, but mostly they just did not believe, and it was breaking his heart. So he made a gift of the documents to the Student, his friend and would-be companion, and extracted from him a promise to carry on with what the two of them had started. Then he went home to his family, and his old age.

More months passed; Martinez graduated from San Jose State University with degrees in Liberal Arts and Spanish. He hooked up with a companion named Bill Solis, who had helped him through some hard times. In 1993 Bill put up the money and the two of them spent about a month in the mountains, verifying much of the information in the documents, but not locating the lost mine. Their only companions were two hired guides, whom they did not know well, and who were armed with AK-47 automatic rifles. Martinez did not announce his discovery to them, instead pretending that he and Bill were searching the area for geologically significant features that might signal an area where gold could be looked for. They got out of the area safely, but were very disappointed that they could not stay longer - they were out of money, and Bill had to get back to his "real job" in order to keep the rent paid. 

It was not until early 1996 that Martinez went back to Durango, this time with a former mine owner from Durango, as well as an engineer who had grown up in the area. They too were unable to locate the mine, but were able to confirm addition details that helped to narrow the search. At one crucial point in their search they had come to a fork in the road, and had to choose one of two paths; they had gone to the right, which left them riding away from their destination instead of toward it.

Martinez had found the trip helpful however, learning more about the local history and the "old tales" of the region. In 1997 he traveled again to the fork in the road, this time choosing the road not taken earlier, and it made all the difference. He located the foundation stones of the ruined town, as well as the medicinal herb garden, which had been known as "Xachacal". He went on to find the old mine entrance, protected, as described in the 1702 word map, by two large, mobile rocks. He returned to his home in San Jose, California in high spirits, planning to put together a larger expedition and open up the mine on his next visit.

Over the next few years he had a heart attack, a partial amputation of one foot, fell into a diabetic coma, and started dialysis after his kidneys failed. His spirits sank as delay piled upon delay, but after numerous hospitalizations and several near death episodes, his health was stabilized, and he decided that it was time to finally get it done - he was going to open the mine, no matter what. 

We are seeking sponsorship and/or funding for our expedition to open up the Lost Mine of Naranxal. Ideally this will be provided by a media organization in exchange for exclusivity arrangements. In lieu of such an arrangement, we will offer investment opportunities to groups or individuals that may wish to share in the adventure and treasure opportunities.
Interested persons are invited to contact: Mr. Jeffrey Lee Coughlan, Managing Partner
Email: Jeleco@Hotmail.com

Please note: Stan Grist is not involved in this project and has posted this information only as a courtesy to Jeffery Lee Coughlan. Please direct all your inquiries to him.