Guest Blog by Associate Producer Bri Bruce
Through the night I listened to coyotes yipping somewhere off through the trees, only to be replaced by birdsong as the sky grew lighter. There were doves, cardinals, quail, orioles, all creating a symphony as the Sierra glowed pink with dawn.
After a cup of coffee in the garden with my father, we took a walk up the dirt road near the villa. There were few houses, livestock roaming about--their bells and bellowing could always be heard.
Before heading to San Jose del Cabo to film and buy supplies, we spent the late morning interviewing Oscar, Rigoberto's friend, who oversees the villa's ranchito and stables that house several horses, a donkey, goats, turkeys, and laying hens. Oscar is a vaquero, or cattleman, deft with horses and the tough but artful vocation of horsemanship and ranching. The vaquero tradition, as Oscar explained, is disappearing, something that is not taken up by Mexico's newest generations. During Nelson and Goldman's time, vaqueros were prevalent and they often sought their expertise during their expedition when it came to riding horses for thousands of miles through the inhospitable Baja desert.
Now, after a swim in the villa's pool to cool off, we're sitting under the palms that line the villa compound, preparing dinner and listening to Frank Sinatra on the stereo. The light is fading behind the mountains, the paved walkways still clinging to the day's heat.