Viewing entries tagged
documentary expedition
Return Home
It took us two and a half days to get from the border to our home in Santa Cruz. A stop in Ojai at my dad's house for the night was the perfect halfway point. We battled more gusty, strong, and always changing winds the entire way home. Our last day in the saddle was a total of 315 miles and that brought an end to an amazing two-month filming expedition through the heart of the Baja Peninsula.
April 23 (To Ensenada)
Wind! It seems that nearly the entire trip north we have been met with a headwind, wind from the side, and then gusty winds that tend to push our bikes around. We rode 136 miles today and landed at a hotel in Ensenada. JT's bike has been experiencing some issues with the chain and rear sprocket. The chain keeps loosening and would skip as he accelerated. We have had to tighten the chain several times, but can't figure out why it loosens after a day's drive. We will try to get it to a repair shop in San Diego tomorrow.
Bike problems outside Catavina
I woke up feeling somewhat somber, knowing that in a few hours I would have to drive to San Jose del Cabo, hop on a plane, and go home.
On asking JT and Papa how they felt the week’s filming went, they said they were pleased with accomplishing what they had hoped to throughout the week. The goal was threefold: ride horses into the Sierra la Laguna, following a similar route taken by Nelson and Goldman; surf some of Baja’s beaches (as it is one of only a few things Baja is known for to the outside world and is an important economic and cultural contributor for some places on the peninsula); and capture the opulence of Cabo San Lucas. I’d say the week was a success.
This did little to uplift my spirits completely. As we veered inland, all I could think about was that blue again. It's no wonder that legendary conservationist, scientist, and filmmaker Jacques Cousteau called the Sea of Cortez the world's aquarium. And let's not forget his famous quote: "The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever."
I was leaving it behind again--and already I was planning the next time I’d see it. It is always with some degree of hesitancy or reserve, however. I always fear the state I will find it in when I return. It will never be as it was the time before, and its future is uncertain.
As the plane rumbled forward, then lifted, I looked out the window and bid the wondrous place a silent farewell.
Guest blog by Associate Producer Bri Bruce
Woke to a thick haze in the air, a mixture of fog and smoke—likely burning trash.
JT, Papa and I headed to Cerritos early, where I rented a board from a guy named Juan at one of the stands we had seen the day before. The surf was decent, though somewhat disorganized, more or less an extended beach break that sweeps around a rocky point below a large hotel on the cliff. There were only a few others out, and I enjoyed a handful of fast waves with short rides.
I did a short interview with JT afterwards, then interviewed Juan who told us all about the changes he’d seen at this beach in the last ten years. The beach used to be relatively unknown, and was unbuilt, “undiscovered.” But now, more than a few large hotels dot the stretch of beach, and people come from all over the world to surf and swim. Juan explained how sad it was, but ultimately it was good for business. He and his brother owned the stand, provided rentals and lessons to beachgoers, and slept right there in the sand most nights.
We spent a few hours in the evening in the central part of Cabo San Lucas, walking the stretch of beach in front of the resorts that gave us a good view of Land’s End, the boats leaving and entering the harbor, and all the people.
We found an out-of-the-way place for some tacos and beer, then roamed around the main streets to film some of the nightlife. Loud music poured from the open entryways of bars and nightclubs. Men stood on the sidewalk handing out flyers, attempting to usher us into their establishments. There were families, and sunburnt couples, gaggles of women in high heels, groups of men yelling and jostling one another. Every so often we’d pass a bachelorette party, colorful tiaras or boas setting them apart.
Once we had our fill of Cabo, we made our way back to Todos Santos. We were silent on the drive home, most of us likely reflecting on the day, and the week, knowing some of us would be leaving in the morning.
Guest blog by Associate Producer Bri Bruce
Awake before the others, Papa and I decided to go for a drive to see the area. We headed north toward La Pastora, through a sparsely built area, then drove out to a beach where several cars (including a school bus that had been converted to an RV) were parked in the sand. There were several surfers in the water beyond the rocky beach and we stood watching them for a while, noting they were wearing wetsuits in the much cooler water. We returned south, heading for Pescadero, and wound through the hills and dirt roads there, stopping at another beach, this time deserted. ATV tracks scarred the beach, not a person in sight. The beach was not conducive to swimming—or surfing—as the step beach caused the waves to double over and break right on the shore.
Continuing south again, we came to Cerritos, taking a dirt road from Mex19 to the ocean. Between the two large hotels on the stretch of beach, we found a smaller road that dead-ended into a series of tents and umbrellas. There were vendors selling hats and jewelry, tourists lounging about in beach chairs. Several stands of surfboards were propped up, with signs reading “Rentals” and “Lessons.” After doing a quick scan of the boards, and talking to a few of the people offering rentals, I found a stand to come back to tomorrow.
After a late breakfast back at the complex, JT and Papa left to film on the bikes, so Heidi, Jade, and I walked around Todos Santos’s historic district to visit a few museums and galleries. We stopped for some fresh fruit with chili and lime at the mission before heading back to plan the rest of the trip’s filming.
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.
Bahia de los Angeles to Santa Gertrudis Mission
The day started off as a huge honor for us as a film crew. We had the pleasure of sitting down for breakfast and an interview with author Graham Mackintosh. He was in town and was excited to meet us and generous with his time. Graham is the author of four adventure books about Baja. His first, and most famous, is about his experience as he walked the entire perimeter of the Baja peninsula: Into a Desert Place. Truly an honor to meet him and talk Baja. During our trips over the years we recount his stories, having been to many of the places he visited during his trek.
Producer Todd and Director JT with Author and Baja Storyteller Graham Mackintosh.
With a nearly 200-mile day ahead of us, we drove out of town and headed into the hills.
The road to Santa Gertrudis starts with a "straight as an arrow" gravel road from Highway 1 to El Arco (22 miles). It took every bit of concentration that JT and I had to keep the bikes upright and moving. The recent winter rains had created numerous "canyon" type wash-outs that would have swallowed one of us whole without issue.
The Mission Santa Gertrudis is one of the least visited missions in all of Baja. For good reason! It is a long, dusty, washboarded, and rutted drive to get to this mini oasis. Water rises to the surface and flows down the canyon a short distance before disappearing into the sand several hundred yards down the arroyo. Fan palms dominate this spot and at first glance appeared to be paradise as far as a camping spot was concerned. A closer inspection revealed that the local population of cows had taken over.
The bell tower at Santa Gertrudis Mission
Oasis near Santa Gertrudis Mission
We arrived at "magic hour" as JT likes to put it. For filming purposes, it is the hour leading up to sunset. A quick film shoot about and in the mission was the order and we set off to find a camp spot. We were directed to a spot just downstream and headed out of the mission compound with a tag-a-long, self-imposed, and honorary member of the film crew: a dog named Leroy, a pit-bull terrier with a great disposition that just wanted to hang with us for a while. Leroy had a purpose! His job was to wake up every hour or so and bark at, bother, or just annoy what ever animal or sound was in the arroyo. Thanks, Leroy!
JT with Leroy
Bahia de los Angeles
Jose Mercade was, once again, a host that continues to give and provide. He offered his boat to us for a late morning and early afternoon cruise of the bay. The time between when he opened up the garage door to launch was about 20 minutes. His house sits on the bay and he has his own launch ramp.
His panga was perfect for our tour and soon we found a small pod of bottlenose dolphins. They played about the bow of our boat for nearly 15 minutes and JT got some great footage of them. They soon tired and fell back to do their thing.
We were on the outside of the first row of islands, just east of Horsehead Island, when we shut down the motor just to soak up the tranquil, windless, and glassy conditions of the water. Suddenly we heard the unmistakable sound of a whale's exhale. We were blessed to experience a single finback whale in a series of feeding dives. After each dive the whale would swim a circle near us with between 10 and 15 surface breaths before diving deep.
In the afternoon, we were lucky to have two great interviews. The first was the great grandson of Dick Dagget Sr. at his RV and fishing camp just north of town. He had invited his mother, Doña Trina Dagget. Dick Dagget was an Englishman that had jumped ship in the 1880s and had made a name for himself in this part of Baja. Nelson and Goldman had negotiated with him in San Quintin to purchase supplies when they arrived at his mine (The King Richard Mine) near Calamajue. When they arrived, the mine was empty and boarded up. Being skilled trackers, they found tracks leading away from the mine and found the party on the beach of a small bay. Their own supplies had run out and a misunderstanding about the timing of the new supply ship caused them to survive on turtle meat, fish, and wild honey for over a month.
Dick Dagget saved the lives of Nelson and Goldman. The younger Dagget was impressed by the story and was happy to connect with us. Doña Trina was a lively and energetic interviewee. She spoke only in Spanish and most of what she said went over our heads. She was missing most of her front teeth so her speach was off a little too. We will have to wait until the translation is complete to really know what she had to say. I can't wait!
To Playa San Rafael
One of our major goals of this trip was to visit and interview our friend Pancho at Playa San Rafael. He lives a simple life on a bluff overlooking the beach with spectacular views of the islands offshore. To get to his house is a 47-mile run on a very washboarded road through the desert.
The last time we saw him was in 2013 and he was elated when we removed our helmets to reveal our identities after we rode up. "Siempre recuerdo!" he told us. I remember, always. Immediately he ran into his house to fetch three ice cold beers. His generator was humming away keeping his refrigerator and freezer working. His house is a very clean "shack" with many amenities and upgrades. His life is simple, and he has many friends that help him out.
Todd, Pancho, and JT, reunited.
Our visit was wonderful and we exchanged gifts (Pancho and I have been doing this for over 22 years now). We gave him a bottle of tequila, a shirt, stickers, and a bandana. He gave me a book about the Baja Missions. Our interview with him was better than we expected and we had a great visit. Pancho asked that when we come down next to bring him a DVD player. He has a flat screen TV and a number of DVDs he'd like to watch.
On our return, we stopped at the old Las Flores mine to film. All that is left are several piles of tailings and a rock walled jail.
Yubay to Bahia de los Angeles
The decision of the day was to load JT and his camera equipment into Greg's truck and they would head up to Yubay while Todd stayed behind to keep the bikes secure and safe. They had a great trip and enjoyed the area, the tinaja, and met a couple of local cowboys.
Meanwhile, Todd was left in the desert to bake in the 91-degree temperatures, with no wind and the only the shade cast by a few cordon cacti, a cirio, and a weak acacia tree. I drank all my water, explored the area, played hide-and-go-seek with a quail, and took several naps while waiting for the guys to return.
That evening we were welcomed at the house of Jose Mercade in Bahia de los Angeles. We swam in the bay, took a shower, and enjoyed a quiet evening. We slept on foldout cots next to the bay, a cool breeze coming off the water. Thanks, Jose, for the hospitality!
Panga in Bahia de los Angeles.