"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 21

March 24, 2017

To Goldman Peak

Edward William Nelson bestowed (in my mind) the ultimate honor to his respected colleague, naming a prominent peak after his friend and partner, Edward Alphonso Goldman. This peak lies just north and east of the Santa Gertrudis Mission and slightly north of the 28th parallel of latitude. Nelson described it as being near 5,000 feet of elevation.

The crew, consisting of JT, Todd, Greg, and Guy headed up one of the old mission trails (one branch of the El Camino Real) toward Goldman Peak. This trail was built during the mission times and was, in spots, well worn and well engineered. We passed many species of cacti, saw numerous species of birds, and had some amazing views of the surrounding mountains, canyons, and geology. We passed two areas where the forefathers of today's local rancheros had built stacked rock walls to keep in or out their stock.

On the return trip we somehow got separated. JT and I were in front, followed by Greg, then by Guy. JT and I arrived at the last significant geographical feature along the trail and decided to wait for the others. Greg arrived a few minutes later and we waited for Guy to arrive. After 20 minutes or so in the sweltering heat, Greg offered to stay behind and wait for Guy and suggested that JT and I head back to the mission, our vehicles, and more importantly, water!

Greg stayed back for another 15 minutes and waited for Guy before he became concerned and decided to hike back up the trail and begin a series of loud yells in an attempt to get Guy's attention. Several yells later, Greg heard a reply. Too far off in the distance to understand the meaning, he continued up the trail. Rounding a corner, Greg intercepts a local caballero (cowboy), Alonzo, who was riding a mule while out checking on his cattle.

Alonzo had not seen Guy and the two began to look for any sign of our lost amigo. They tracked footprints in an arroyo that the trail crossed and started to follow the size 10 tracks until the sand gave way to gravel. A plan was devised and they decided to split up sending Greg back up to the trail and down to the mission. Alonzo was to follow the arroyo and the two would meet up at the mission. Alonzo assured Greg that all was well as he has spent his life in these mountains, could track just about anything, and had rescued many gringos from near death.

Soon after parting, Alonzo found another footprint of Guy's and not more than a meter away was a fat, coiled rattlesnake. His worst fears began to well up inside him as he feared that our friend Guy may have also crossed paths with this desert viper. The terrain from then on was not conducive to tracking a single person wearing vibram-soled walking shoes, but Alonzo pushed onward expecting the worst of outcomes.

JT and I had been been at the mission for nearly 45 minutes when Guy strolls into the compound without a care in the world. He never saw Greg, but admitted that he heard yelling and at one point, yelled back, but could not figure out the direction or the message being yelled. The canyon walls tend to play tricks on sound when in the bottom of an arroyo.

Concern gave way to a new plan. I would hike back up to the last known location for Greg and see if I could find him to give him the word that Guy was OK. Minutes later Greg walked into the compound and clearly was relieved to see that Guy was alive and unharmed. Alonzo rode in 15 minutes later and was also relieved and proceeded to tell a story about a woman that was bit by a rattler several years earlier and needed a helicopter search and rescue to get her to safety.

We had the most lively conversation that night while sitting around the campfire. We told stories of the day, joked about what Greg would have to say to Sandy (Guy's gal) about loosing him, and about the adventure we had on the way to Goldman Peak.

Scientific director Greg Meyer in a giant cordon.

From the Director: Reflections on 25% Completion

March 20, 2017

Mex 1 shoots out from under us like a black snake, wrapping around the jagged contours of the desert as if to constrict and consume it. Wildflowers explode from the hills and blur into streaks, a painter's pallet of color and life. Baja is in full bloom.

We roll into the next puebla like some knockoff Steppenwolf, waxing poetic about the heavy metal thunder of life on the road, our steel machines thirsty for oil. We're chasing ghosts that we can never really relate to, separated by the chasm of time. But we try. We're hounds on the hunt for clues to understand the past. Or are we just gringos desperate to connect with a life that was never ours? Outsiders looking for a way in?

What are we in this place? Leather gloves fraying under pounding vibration, gasolina burning around our pistons, a turn of the wrist away from oblivion? Or a couple of nerds with too much free time, way over their heads, and batting far above their pay grade? Wanna-bes with a death wish?

The people and places here vibrate with a rustic intensity, a convoluted contradiction of hard-earned experience and rural niavete. Baja is a liminal place, always on the border between progress and regress. Boom and bust. To try and capture it is a Sisyphean task. But we try.

All we can do is try.

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 14

March 17, 2017

Cataviña to the middle of the desert

All ten of us set off to see some of the sights on Nathan's ranch. The ranch, La Bocana, is located where three rivers converge. We saw two ancient "rock circles" built by the native Baja California peoples thousands of years ago, and found basalt rocks that were chipped to use as cutting tools. We found puma scat, swam in the pool of water in an oasis, and photographed several rock art sites. What an experience and well worth the difficult road to get in and out.

We then set our sights on Calamajue. This is a small bay that was used as a ship landing to offload supplies for the miners in the area and to load shipments heading back to Guaymas or Ensenada. Coco's Corner is well known to those in the motorcycle and adventure crowd and was a confirmed stop of ours. A short consultation with Coco made it clear that the road to Calamajue would not be doable on these bikes unless we were "loco." So, another finely planned adventure was aborted and we were forced back out to the highway and continued heading south.

A short drive on a side road to find a good camp spot turned out shorter that we expected as we hit deep sand and I dumped my bike again. We decided to camp right there for the night. The wild flowers were in full bloom and we slept among a flowerbed of blue and purple flowers.

Coco points to "The Devil's Roa" sticker we gave him during our preliminary expedition to Baja. Thank you, Coco!

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 13

March 17, 2017

El Rosario to Cataviña

We were off quickly with a full day's filming schedule ahead of us. Our first stop was to take the 22-kilometer road out to El Marmol. This is an old abandoned onyx mine. It was being worked when Nelson and Goldman came through, but did not see it's hey day until the early to mid 1900s. The rock was said to be the finest in North America and was shipped to many parts all over the world. It is also the site of the only schoolhouse built of onyx. Now in ruins, it is clear to see the onyx walls and construction still standing tall.

We attempted to take a side trip to Agua Dulce along the old El Camino Real. Now it is a private ranch, but in 1905 it was the only fresh water around for many miles. The "road" quickly turned into a sand pit and we made the decision to abort that attempt.

On the return to the main road, I dumped my bike at a slow speed on a small hill and it took both of us to right the heavy bike.

While in the Sierra San Pedro Martir, we met Nathan, a young biologist and guide. He offered for us to stay at his cabin when we came to town. Arriving at his family's restaurant was a whirl of frenzied activity, as there were seven other people also invited to stay at his cabin. All of these folks were photography enthusiasts and two were Nathan’s friends we had met in the mountains.

In a flurry, we left to his cabin "just twenty minutes away." Not knowing where we were going and just following the truck in front of us was not a good feeling for me. But, I trusted Nathan and the group was enthusiastic. It turned out to be twenty miles on the worst road I have ever been on. The sand was the worst. As the sun was setting, it was getting harder and harder to see the tracks in front of us. We finally made it, and I only dumped the bike 5 times compared to JT's one.

Nathan's cabin sits on an 8,000-acre ranch and we were promised a tour that would be like no other in the morning. We all sat around a big fire, made burritos, and drank beer, tequila, and mescal. We crashed in the bunk beds in one of the many rooms of the cabin.

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 12

March 17, 2017

San Quintin to El Rosario

Without a room for the night, we were forced to sleep in the parking lot. The three hotels in the area were full for the night and as it was near dark when we arrived, we were not going to head back into town to find lodging. We woke with all of our gear soaked in dew and commotion about the area. Our only salvation was to quickly pack up and head south (without coffee or breakfast).

We arrived at Mama Espinoza's Restaurant an hour later and were immediately greeted by Elvira Espinoza (Doña Anita's daughter) who now runs the restaurant. She was very gracious and invited us to stay and enjoy the festivities with "This is your house, too!" We were told there was a benefit motorcycle ride the day before and today was an opportunity to give the town’s children beans, rice, and a toy. Many of the children and their parents showed up to receive a gift.

We were able to interview Elvira with interpretation help from her grand daughter, Michele. This is a wonderful and big family that does so much for the community. We met many family members that travelled from as far away as Ensenada and Tijuana to participate in the communal event.

Shortly after, we headed out of town with the hopes of following the Nelson-Goldman route up the arroyo to find the camping spot they called "the cave." It was a popular spot where the "teamsters" would stop while delivering supplies to the local mines. We were thwarted by cultivated farmland that seemed to not allow us to get to the road into the arroyo. So, we changed course and went to a known campsite our family has always referred to as "Crash Dummy Car." When JT and Bri were young, we would always camp here. It was well off the highway, secluded, and the side road ended at an old overturned car. They loved to throw rocks at it, for the sounds they made were enjoyable.

We had a great evening to film and camp under a full moon.

Interview with Elvira and Michele Espinoza of Mama Espinoza's Restaurant.

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

March 13, 2017

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

March 13, 2017

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.

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 5

March 13, 2017

Laguna Hanson to El Alamo

The wind started howling sometime during the night and didn't let up even after we'd gotten out of the mountains. In the morning, bitter cold wind cast ripples across Laguna Hanson and the overcast sky caused the water, shore, and rock formations to all blend together in a washed out grayscale. We briefly considered boiling lake water to make it drinkable, but abandoned that idea after considering it's murkiness and the thousands of cow pies scattered around the shore. Wind ruled out any on-camera interviews we had planned. Bushwacking cross-country through sage brush on the 650s brought us full circle around the lake and we forded multiple creeks, sloshed through mud puddles, and fought stretches of sandy road to make it back down into the valley.

Back on pavement, the ride to El Alamo was quick. Nine miles on dirt road finished the side trip and brought us to a nearly empty village that sat just down the hill from the hulking ruins of a hugely productive gold mine, now abandoned. Looking for a way around fenced off dirt roads, we motored up a hill to find some viewpoints and poke around abandoned mine shafts before heading back to town, jumping a fence, and hiking up to the main structure of El Alamo. This thing was massive, and held the rusted, broken machinery of a stamp mill, used to crush gold ore for extraction. The most well-preserved aspect were the piston housings, blocks of iron marked with giant capital letters "UNION METAL WORKS - SAN FRANCISCO, CAL." As the sun was setting, we rode another 20 miles south and pulled off Mex 3 to make camp. Maybe the wind will leave us alone tonight.