It was not Kino’s geographical curiosity that enticed him to climb the Sierra Santa Clara, today’s Pinacate.  It was his realization that there might be no need to ship supplies over the desert and the Gulf to aid California.  That need could be better met by simply improving the rich lands of the Colorado delta that could not be far from the Pacific.

 Then and there Kino’s dream took final shape.  It was no longer sufficient for him to think only in terms of sending aid to the abandoned people of California.  All of the Pimería could be joined with the newly discovered peoples of the Colorado.  There had to be a way, probably a very short way, to reach the Pacific where a port could be opened to relieve the suffering of the crews of the China Ship.  The bounty of the Colorado delta could sustain the establishment of a Spanish villa that might well justify expansion along the upper California coast, eventually to open trade with the Orient.  All the pieces of the apostolic puzzle were falling into place. 

         At the turn of the 18^th century Padre Kino was consumed with the tasks of exploration.  The crossings of the desert, the building of mission San Marcello at Sonoidag (Sonoyta), and the possibility of more conversions beyond the Gila were all projects that required time, careful attention, and consummate diplomacy.  His detractors, who were not as enthused about forging an overland passage to California, insisted that he spend his efforts at building up the missions he had already established in the Pimería.  In a way, Kino agreed because he knew the strength of Sonora would be the underpinnings for a stronger economy and the guarantee to open trade with California.  The carpenters and bricklayers he had so laboriously trained were assembled into teams that rode the frontier trails erecting new churches and mission compounds that hopefully would serve the new missionaries he was so urgently requesting.  When the finest churches he ever built were completed in late 1703, he planned elaborate dedications – originally to take place on the feast of St. Francis Xavier, December 2.  But complications with security on the Apache-ridden frontier forced postponement until January, 1704.  It may have been just as well because it gave more time to the Yumas and Quiquimas to cross the winter trails from the Colorado delta to join the Pimas and the neighboring Opatas in celebrating the visible accomplishment of the Indian craftsmen.  Kino was immensely proud of them and more ambitious than ever.

         Somehow that enthusiasm was not shared by others, especially by Father Francisco María Piccolo, who was the economic overseers of transport to California.  There were political differences to resolve in Mexico City which touched the stability of the California missions.  Piccolo wanted no controversy to tip the balance in the wrong direction, and he feared that Kino’s dreams might just be the wrong medicine.  Using his temporary powers as Father Visitor, he wrote Kino in 1707 forbidding him from making further explorations and directing him to focus his attention on his local responsibilities.  Piccolo long been a friend and compatriot, but now he harbored a troubling concern over Eusebio’s health.  Strenuous expeditions were not his idea of prudence for a man of sixty-two years.

         In 1701 there had been a cédula from the King asking for detailed information about the plans to expand the northwest missions.  Piccolo himself composed a very complete response, but it lacked the specificity and experience of Padre Kino.  So Piccolo used the occasion to suggest that Kino set his hand to a more direct response to the King’s inquiries.  It was a marvelous excuse to keep Kino at this desk instead of on his horse.

         So, in translating the Favores, a significant, abrupt change takes place just after Kino finished his descriptions of the dedications of the churches at Cocóspera and Remedios.  He opens Part V that is a summary and response to the cédula just as Piccolo had requested.  It is a swift overview of his involvement in the establishment of the California missions and the development of the Pimería Alta.  As historians will admit, there isn’t much that’s new in these pages.  Well, perhaps not.  But the summations soar with ambitious remarks about the rich lands of North America, about the hard-working, docile Indian populace, and the certain possibility of opening new land passage that will shorten the trade routes not only to the Orient, but Europe as well!  Eusebio may have been sitting in the foothills of the sierra, but his head and heart were as vast as the whole continent.  He had enduring confidence in the strength of his mission communities and certitude about his discoveries – if he just had the money and men to accomplish what he knew was possible.  Part  V of the Favores is a plea for expansion, for the means to make a dream come true, for Spain and the Church.

         Kino’s pen scrawled the last lines.  His signature sprawled across the page.  It was done.  It was February, 1710, at Mission Dolores, which for Kino was the Cape Kennedy of the centuries to come.  The folio pages were bundled together and sent off to Mexico on their journey to the King and Council.  Now it was time to get back into the saddle.  He rode the mission circuit with aching bones and faithful heart.  Then, just thirteen months later, having finished his favorite Novena of Grace, he rode to Magdalena to dedicate a splendid little chapel in honor of St. Francis Xavier, his patron.  His sixty-five year old body gave out during the Mass of dedication, and he retired to the tiny quarters near the chapel to breathe his last – his head resting on his pack-saddle pillow and protected from the chill midnight air by a saddle blanket.  His last ride was done.  The world was left with his dreams.

         While Padre Agustín de Campos buried his missionary companion by the altar in the new chapel, the bundle of papers that was more appeal than memoir sat on a shelf in Mexico City.  Why appeal to the King now for the means to expand the frontier?  The champion was dead, and few others had the human capacity or talents to match those that Providence had brought to the northwest.  Eusebio lay quietly in his grave as time and change overwhelmed his grave.  Only the reclining figure of San Francisco survived over his casket, ultimately to be the focal point for pilgrimages of thousands who eventually forgot the man, his works, and his dreams.  The Favores found its way to the crammed and dusty shelves of the Archivo Nacional, guarding a story barely told and a dream denied.

         In time, however, Providence again set hand on human endeavor and the Favores came to life two centuries later.  And the story of Padre Kino came to be told again to newer generations that are now learning the dimensions of his dreams for the people of the northwest and the whole of North America.  Not surprisingly, Sonora today has become the heir apparent to the dreams that Kino was denied.  It’s splendid and fertile fields raise immense crops of wheat, corn, grapes, and cattle that find their way to markets in North America and Japan.  Kino would be tremendously proud to know that this part of the world has given birth to new economic and even religious hopes.  He would probably not share the environmental atrocities of the damming of the mighty Colorado or the shrinking estuaries of the Gulf.  And he might be somewhat astonished that California still suffers maritime isolation; after all he himself was building a boat.  Indeed, if Kino were to climb out of his crypt, he would undoubtedly look for a SUV to drive to the centers of power and planning to ask: “Gentlemen, what have you done to my dreams?”