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

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

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.

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 10

Mike's Sky Ranch to Sierra San Pedro Martir

Last night three older dirt bike riders came into the rancho after an attempt to get to the observatory. They made it within tree miles of the paved road to the national park. Their assessment of the condition of the road was that it was extremely rutted, very rocky, and seriously steep in areas (and did I say very rocky?). To attempt that road on our heavily ladened bikes (more than twice the weight of theirs) would be "nuts." So, we made the command decision to take the long way around. The risk was too high to attempt it. 

Sierra San Pedro Martir Observatory

We set off with the rest of the Bruce detachment back to Mex Highway 3, then off to Ensenada, then south to San Thelmo where we turned east to head up the 100 km road to the national park. In all it was a 250-mile day in the saddle. Rounding one curve, we almost ran over a very large (at least a meter long) rattle snake. What an opportunity to get some great photos of the snake. JT used all of his camera attachments and implements to get the right shot. 

We arrived at the national park entrance just before dark, picked out a campsite, and did the mad scramble to collect firewood to build a fire. With snow patches all around, we were very cold and got the fire roaring in record time. The temp had dipped to 2 degrees Celsius and was dropping fast. It would be a cold night again. 

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. 

Guest Blog: "The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 8 - Part 2

Guest Blog by Eric Bruce

The eighth day of the expedition consisted of relocating the entire Bruce clan from San Felipe, at the coast of the Sea of Cortez, to Mike’s Sky Ranch in the mountains of the Sierra San Pedro Martir at about 4,000 feet elevation.  After waiting (patiently) for JT to run back to the airport to get his riding jacket from the plane and then waiting (impatiently) for Scott to learn how to file a flight plan to exit Mexico in a couple of days, we left our lodging and headed west at about 10 am.  I am Eric Bruce, slightly older brother of Todd Bruce, and my job today was to provide transportation for the support crew.  There were just four of us, but we loaded the Honda Pilot until almost full.  For those of you who’ve ever seen how Scott and Lauri pack, especially when they fly their own plane and space isn’t an issue, you can well imagine.

We traveled on nice highways for almost two hours, passing through one military checkpoint at the intersection of Highways 3 and 5, and stopped at a long stretch of remote road to film Todd and JT on their bikes.  My Honda Pilot has a sunroof and it turns out that Lauri’s slim figure was perfect for standing up in the back seat, poking her upper body out the roof, and filming in any direction.  So, we stopped at a turnout to get the camera from JT and drove several miles down the road while Lauri got some close-up footage of the bikers – we’d follow, then pass, then get in front, then they’d pass us, and we did this a few times so JT could have some footage to choose from.  He seemed happy, so we gave him back the camera and he put it all back into its protective case mounted to the back of his Kawasaki.  It was then he said something like, “Oh, sh*t, I think I dropped the two locks for the camera case!” He figured he put them on the bike’s storage box and probably just drove off.  So, we returned to the prior turnout and found the locks no worse for wear – one was at the end of the turnout and the other didn’t fall off for several hundred yards and was sitting in the middle of the highway.  Didn’t I read something like that earlier?  I hope this isn’t a recurring theme for their trip to the cape– equipment on the highway!

Getting to Mike’s Sky Ranch was 22 miles of dirt road – most of it was pretty nice and we barely bottomed out once, but a few steep parts tested the transmission of the Honda.  Of course, the dirt bikes were the perfect vehicle for this road.  We really had only one minor issue along the way. Despite my really amazing packing job, we heard a pretty loud cracking or popping noise and within seconds we all noticed the distinctive smell of tequila. I stopped and opened the back hatch and I feared that 3 L bottle of 100% agave juice might have broken, or spilled.  I didn’t pack it on its side, did I?  Of course not – turns out the cork had popped from the elevation change and we didn’t lose a drop. 

We managed to make it just fine to Mike’s and were happy to see the place had a swimming pool!  Problem was, we couldn’t see the bottom of the pool, so nobody was willing to go in.  We made a nice lunch for ourselves poolside and immediately rigged our fly rods and started walking up the San Rafael River in search of the Nelson trout.  Our major goal in Sierra San Pedro Martir was to catch and photograph a local trout with its unique markings.  

Despite Scott proposing that Todd be given the honor of catching the first Nelson trout (and he practically railroaded the vote by insisting on Robert’s Rules of Order), we really only gave Todd one pool to fish by himself before we all wet our lines and started drifting files down the river.  Within an hour, Todd whistled for JT to come film the fish he had on his line and JT ran with his camera to film.  There is some footage that proves it was a fish and probably proves it was a Nelson trout, but the fish slipped from Todd’s hand before a close-up could be obtained.  Wahoo, there are fish in this river, Captain!  About the same time, Scott strolls up to say he caught a fish, too, but he has no photographic evidence.  Unlike Todd’s fish, it did not have the characteristic blue spots with the crimson red stripe running behind the spots along the entire lateral line of the fish.  About a half-hour later, I caught a fish and was able to get a photo that clearly shows the same marking as Todd’s fish, plus the characteristic white tip on both the dorsal and ventral fins.  It, too, was unmistakably a Nelson trout.  And I’m sure you’ll be impressed that the total length of the three fish was AT LEAST 13 inches!  Two fours and a five.  Our goal has been met, technically.

Now, we’re not sure whether there is any established world record for size of a Nelson trout, but due to its very narrow range of habitat, we figure there likely isn’t one.  So, our new goals for tomorrow are to catch and release more fish (we plan to go further upstream as there are stories of larger pools of water that might hold larger fish), get one for Wayne and Lauri, get better video documentation, and establish a world record size.  For the Devil’s Road record, it was Todd who got the 5-incher!  Just what Dad had predicted.  In the meantime, Lauri made a really nice painting of the nearby mountains and enjoyed her day on strike (some woman’s acknowledgment thing that some of the guys couldn’t really get behind).  She ended her day of leisure with a meal cooked by Mike’s staff that included a piece of grilled beef the size of South America (OK, I meant shape).

Thank you for following this Baja adventure, and thanks to the entire film crew for letting me join in the effort. 

Guest Blog, "The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, March 7th, 2017 (DAY 7)

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Chief Pilot Scott A. Bruce

For months I was wondering what I had gotten myself into. Lauri and I were planning to fly my single-engine plane over 2,000 miles across the country in late winter; attempt to cross the border into Mexico without getting my plane confiscated and the two of us thrown into Mexican prison; rendezvous with my brother and father who were driving down from the Bay Area; hope that Todd and JT survive their first three steep-learning-curve days of motorcycling through Baja; and have all of us meet at the San Felipe International Airport around noon on March 6th.  All in the hopes of good weather on March 7th as the only day that is set aside for aerial filming.

What could possibly go wrong?

This is lunacy. The number of mishaps could be astronomical. The probability that we could pull this off was extremely low. Literally, there was about ten times in the months of preparation where I was ready to pull the plug on our part of the Devil’s Road Expedition -- because I couldn’t get the annual inspection complete, I couldn’t get the aircraft ready, I couldn’t find back-up Visual Flight Rules charts for Baja, the aircraft Altitude Indicator failed keeping me from being able to fly on instruments, I had to do fiberglass repairs on the wheel pants and the luggage doors. . . the list goes on. But we kept at it, getting as prepared as we possibly could, all the while hedging my bet with JT and Todd on how many things could go wrong that would prevent us from making the planned rendezvous.

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Armed with a bag of tools, a roll of duct tape, a couple of heavily leveraged credit cards, and $500 in fives and twenties, we took off out of Maryland on March 2nd.  A cold front had come through the Mid-Atlantic the day before we left Southern Maryland, giving us a one-day window on the day we were scheduled to depart.  It is important to note that, while I am an all-weather pilot, the Cherokee Six is NOT an all-weather airplane – it doesn’t fly in icing, which can be prevalent throughout the US this time of year. (Important note: pilots are obsessed with weather – for a reason). Fortunately, the weather all across the southern part of the United States was dominated by a high-pressure system that gave us great flying weather all the way to El Centro, California, where Lauri and I were planning to meet up with my brother, Eric, and my father, Wayne.

The Cherokee Six purred like a kitten. The weather held out. We met Eric and Wayne in El Centro on the 5th. Unbelievable. Now for the big obstacle: the border crossing.

After some issues with customs and the Border Patrol’s electronic system for filing flight plans and crossing the border, we launched solely on the word of Officer Castro in the Calexico Airport. Although it is obvious from the air where the border between Calexico and Mexicali is, there is a striped line on my GPS at the border, but at the exact moment I crossed into Mexican Airspace absolutely nothing happened. I did NOT get intercepted by Mexican military fighter jets.  I contacted Mexicali Approach and we continued our way to San Felipe International Airport without incident.

After Lauri and I cleared customs, we were getting the plane tied down and our bags organized for the few days’ stay. The sound of two motorcycles approaching down the long road to the airport was unmistakable -- JT and Todd had made it! Not 30 minutes later, Eric and Wayne rolled up in Eric’s SUV, having crossed the border in Mexicali and driven 2 hours down to San Felipe.  

Simply put,“Astounding!” We pulled it off. We all made it. In the immortal words of the World Famous Sicilian kidnapper, Fezzini, “Inconceivable!”

Now, all we needed was a good weather day for filming on the 7th and the miracle would be complete.

Meanwhile, Todd has an “owie” on his hand where Nathan spit slag onto Todd’s hand while Todd was holding the motorcycle headlight protective screen with his bare hands that Nathan was tack-welding. I tried to explain to Todd about clamps, lock pliers, and leather gloves, but I think it fell on deaf ears. Despite his whining, he seems to be surviving the healing process so far.

The morning of the 7th brought clear weather and calm air. A minor miracle. We got two-and-a-half hours of perfectly clear weather and unbelievably stable air for aerial filming. This was JT’s first time filming from the air, but he got the most perfect day imaginable. We took the back door off of the plane, strapped JT in, put Eric in the front right seat with his own set of cameras, and launched first thing in the morning.

Cockpit of the Cherokee Six (Scott Bruce, left, and Eric Bruce, right)

We shot video of Todd riding his motorcycle out onto a dusty dirt road, climbed to over 11,000 feet to film the Sierra San Pedro Martir Mountain Range, filmed the salt flats of the northern Sea of Cortez, flew down the beach along the Pacific Ocean at 50 feet of elevation, and returned to San Felipe just as the wind and thermals were picking up for the day--all without either JT or his camera getting sucked out of the plane. I did NOT want to have to explain that one to his mother.

A marvel of planning and luck came together to deliver almost two hours of spectacular digital video and countless still photos. The weather gods had shined their light and good fortune upon us! We will have to let the final documentary speak for itself on that fact.

Aerial view of Sierra de San Pedro Martir Mountains, Sea of Cortez in background.

Tomorrow, we attempt to complete our other major goal for the trip: head up into the mountains to seek out the little known and ever-elusive Nelson’s trout. Let the fishing gods be with us for the next two days. Fingers crossed.

Scott A. Bruce
Commander and Chief Pilot
The Devil’s Road Aviation Detachment

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

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. 

"The Devil's Road" Director JT Bruce

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.

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 4

Ensanada to Laguna Hanson

There was every conceivable noise and sound last night. The hostel is in the middle of town and I swear there was a police station just down the road. I could hear sirens all night long. We woke and got all of our gear back onto the bikes, which took quite some time. We had to shove the bikes into a very narrow alley (so narrow the panniers had to come off in order to fit) that could be locked.

La Bufadora is a natural blowhole in the rocks at the point on the southern end of Todos Santos Bay. It is quite the tourist attraction, with bus loads of tourists coming and going throughout the day. Everyone has to walk down this path that was like running the peddler's gauntlet. One could buy just about anything imaginable from these barking, persistent enterprising folks. With that attraction checked off of our list, we needed to get out of town! Saturday midday in Ensenada is not the time one should be trying to cross town to get to Highway 3! We were slowed by a funeral procession, blocked by emergency vehicles, and nearly sideswiped by a VW bug. 

Producer Todd Bruce

Things really calmed down once we were off the pavement and onto the dirt roads heading to Laguna Hanson for the night. Or so we thought... We had a crash course in driving these heavy bikes in just a thin layer of sand; our GPS coordinates were definitely off by .3 to .5 miles, and we had our first dumping of a bike. I was in front and trying to negotiate too many ruts and washouts when I had to slam on my brakes to keep from launching into a chasm. JT, in an attempt not to hit me, did a 5 mph pitch and into the sand he and the bike went. Luckily, the only damage sustained was the sheering off of one of the fuel bottles. JT's pride was bent, but he was glad to get it over with, as it was the first spill. We arrived to find a perfect camp out of the wind right next to a group of large boulders.

Laguna Hanson was full and there were several rafts of duck out on the water. The lake is named after a Norwegian that was the first white man to see this lake. He built a nice ranch just down the hill from the lake in the late 1800s. That ranch is now, and was in 1905, called Rancho El Rayo. When Nelson and Goldman came through here, the ranch was the only place during their trek where they were confronted with unfriendliness and a disagreeable attitude.  

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Day 11, Preliminary Expedition: May 26, 2016

May 26, 2016 (Day 11)

We had one of the coldest nights any of us had ever spent in the Baja desert. We woke to significant dew and it was still windy. While trying to get warm, we had a sluggish morning getting our things in order and heading off to San Quintin.

We stopped in Catavina to film the arroyo and a stand of palm trees. We found a natural tinaja (or water tank). The water was low and full of green slime, most likely due to the frequent deposits of cattle feces and urine.

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The sandy wash of a dried riverbed in Catavina's arroyo.

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We stopped a few times to get some footage of the natural surroundings and events. Hector is somewhat of a legend in this part of the peninsula. He lost his life on this road and a magnificent shrine memorializes him. We also found a number of Nelson’s century plants in full bloom.

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Hector's shrine in Catavina. 

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Nelson's century plant in full bloom. 

We landed at The Old Mill Restaurant and Hotel on the bay of San Quintin. The wind is blowing hard again tonight and may be an issue in the morning. But as JT’s friend Mark Watson says, “When life gives you wind, just fly kites and drink margaritas.” I think we need to go and build a few kites!

On to Isla San Martin in the morning.