"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 11

Sierra San Pedro Martir to San Quintin

It was cold last night. Sleeping among the snow patches at 9,000-foot elevation usually is not considered to be a warm and pleasant experience.

The moon was nearly full and at this altitude it looked bigger than ever. It was brighter, too. The giant log we threw on the fire had completely burned up and left a perfect bed of coals to restart the fire when I woke. I really did not want to get out of my sleeping bag. I grabbed the camera and went for a walk as the sun was rising over the mountains and spreading across the snowy landscape. It was quiet, the air crisp, and if I closed my eyes I would swear that I was in the Sierra Nevada.

This range is a separate island extension of the Sierra Nevada that broke off hundreds of thousands of years ago. The Jeffery pine, granite rocks, juniper, and other shrubs are all the same. Camping next to us were three young biologists and photographers that were there to photograph and study the environment. So we took full advantage to grab an interview and get to know these three men. One was a marine biologist, the other was a guide, and the third was a herpetologist that specializes in animal rescue where roads are being built. All were very knowledgable about the fauna of Baja California. 

As we were organizing and getting our riding gear on, I noticed a nail sticking out of my rear tire. With a 60-km drive to the nearest town, I was weary about pulling the nail out. My mind quickly went back to the repair seminar that JT and I received from Bob Davis of Davis Moto Works back home in Santa Cruz. How to fix a flat tire in the desert was highlighted, and eventually all the tricks came flooding back into my head. A swift pull with the pliers revealed only a flesh wound. Lucky for us, no air was leaking and we were on our way. 

After a quick stop to drive to the top of the mountain to see the observatory (it was closed and no tours were being conducted) we took a few photos and pointed the front tires down hill. JT and I enjoyed a family tradition of a snow cone! This time it was Baja style: Margarita! 

The rest of the afternoon was dedicated to finding a California condor to film. We think we got film of four soaring out over the edge of the mountain range, but they were too far away to confirm. Either way, with only 30 condors here in Baja, the odds were against us in getting a glimpse of them.  

We closed out the day at the Old Mill Hotel and Restaurant in San Quintin.

Looking for California Condors in the Sierra San Pedro Martir mountain range.

Guest Blog: "The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 9

Guest Blog by Lauri Bruce

Today marks the last day we will be traveling with JT and Todd.  Tomorrow Wayne and Eric will drive us back to San Felipe and Scott and I will wing our way to Sedona, and then home to Maryland.

What is it like traveling with five Bruce men, you may ask (one father-in-law, two brother-in-laws, a nephew, and my husband)? It has to be experienced to be believed. Much as JT tries to deny it, they are all cut from a similar bolt of cloth.  These are five of the most opinionated, high-energy, full-of-themselves men I’ve ever met. Yet, I wouldn’t want to go on an adventure with anyone else.  They challenge me to laugh at myself, be brave, and live life to the fullest.  Whether we are deep in a political discussion, comparing adventure stories, or one upping one another with who-done-its, these are the guys you want at your back.  Loyal to a fault and when you need them as loving and caring as any group you will find. So this is how I found myself on the fourth day of high adventure with the Devil’s Road crew at Mike’s Sky Ranch.

From left to right: Scott, Lauri, Wayne, Todd and JT

Today, after a breakfast of more beans and tortillas, salsa and scrambled eggs Mexican style, we set out on day two of the search for Nelson’s trout.  The day started out warm with clear blue skies.  Once again I over-packed as we had no idea what to expect weather wise.  I’m really glad it was warm and sunny.  Through broken English and bad Spanish on Todd’s part, we got the info that the higher up the stream we went the better the fishing.  Worms where suggested, as was a Zebco retractable spinning rod, but being the fly fishing purists we are, we used royal humpies and tufted grasshoppers. 

We hiked about an hour, fishing riffles and pools along the way and finally made it to the head of the stream with a lovely waterfall in a little canyon. 

I’m pretty sure Scott gave me a crappy fly and it was the reason I couldn’t catch a dang thing. Todd of course was pulling them in left, right, and center. Eric landed a large specimen that was a perfect match to the painting we had as a reference.  JT was kept busy hopping from pool to pool to film.  I gave up and went to do some drawing.  Filming was about as successful as the fishing.  For me some days you’re the windshield, some days you’re the bug.

Scott came, gathered me up, and gave me his rod. I immediately caught a fish (see, I told you!) that may have been the largest of the day. We continued a day of catch and release, as the Nelson’s trout is rare and the population small. It was fun all around, and as we made our way back downstream the fish became non-existent. 

We stopped in the shade for a wonderful lunch and rest before heading back to Mike’s Sky Ranch. Scott, Eric, and I fished along the way and wandered back enjoying the amazing scenery.  The evidence of a fire and the renewed growth was inspiring.  We waded across the creek and cooled the toes in the rapidly rushing water. 

Back at the ranch, Gramps had met a new friend, Ted.  Ted is a 76-year-old dirt biker.  Yea, I feel like a wimp.  He was joined a bit later by three of his buddies who had been at the observatory while Ted waited at Mike’s.  When they joined us poolside they started their tales of adventures and it quickly became apparent to Todd and JT that taking their proposed route the next day would be impossible.  Ted’s friend, who was undoubtedly the guy with the most experience, looked at them like they were crazy.  And trust me if these guys said it was crazy, it was something you should pay attention to.  Scott, Todd, and JT hiked up the road a bit after that and made the command decision to change plans.  The mother in me was grateful.  With two months on the road, unnecessary risks make no sense.

So how is it to travel with these wild and crazy guys?  I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  I’ve been in this family for 36 years and we have been through a lot together—joy, sorrow, tears, and laugher, weddings, births, deaths, and a lot of beers under the bridge. Guys, I love you one and all.  Let’s not wait so long for the next big adventure.