"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 33

April 2nd (Puerto San Carlos to Mission San Luis Gonzaga)

In May of last year, JT, Greg and I had the pleasure of meeting and spending the day with Julio Solis of the Waterkeeper Alliance (the Bay Keeper at San Carlos). We had a wonderful day and he gave us a great interview. His interview can be seen in our Isla Magdelena episode on our website. We wanted to check in with him to say hello and see what, if any, changes have happened since we last saw him.

The drive to the bay is not that exciting. It is a straight and well paved road. We did see a few clumps of the Creeping Devil's cactus here and there. Julio, unfortunately, was not around. Disappointed, we drove around town to see if there was anything to film that we had missed last May.

We are officially part of the "biker community." Now, we have been embraced, acknowledged, and other bikers actually wave to us. In San Carlos we drove by a restaurant with 8 or so motorcycles parked out front. It looked like the perfect opportunity to sit and meet some of our fellow riders and eat some good food. We were acknowledged by a biker gang from Ciudad Constitucion called Reyes del Camino. These guys were well decorated with leather vests and biker paraphernalia, but didn't give us much thought and kept to themselves.

As they were leaving, one of the younger members nodded at us his and quietly asked where we were from. His English was good, so I took the opportunity to "break the ice." As it turns out, these guys were tame and very interested in our project. We gave out stickers, which immediately most found a place on their bike to proudly display it. I gave a bandana to the leader and with honor he tied it around his neck. The bikes were a rag-tag display of Yamaha, Suzuki, Harley Davidson, and several unknown brands, even a dirt bike. In Mexico, anything goes! You can’t help but admire it.

Looking at the map and our planned route, we were still several days ahead of schedule and had nothing else to film in the area, so we decided for a side trip to see the Mission San Luis Gonzaga. The twenty-mile dirt and gravel road was not too bad. There were a few thin sandy spots, but they didn't give us any trouble. This mission sits in a shallow arroyo with a stream running through the bottom. Palm trees line the stream banks and as usual, the cows, horses, mules, and donkeys ruled the town. They run freely and leave their "calling cards" everywhere.

San Luis Gonzaga is another small community centered around the mission, it's water, and the livestock that can be raised. It was quiet with many buildings in ruin and we walked around taking pictures uninterrupted. That took all of about 45 minutes and we looked at each other as though we were both asking, "What now?" Since Nelson and Goldman did not come through here, we took the drive to get "B" roll shots and visit a place we had never been. That night we camped in the desert a few miles out of town.

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 31

March 31st (Puerto Adolfo Lopez Mateos)

This small fishing village has a history of changing its name. In 1905 when Nelson and Goldman came through it was know by three names: La Soledad, Matancita, or Santo Domingo Landing. It is here that they boarded a sailing vessel owned by the Chartered Company of Lower California for a trip to Isla Magdelena and Isla Santa Margarita.

Today, it is officially know as Puerto Adolfo Lopez Mateos, named after one of Mexico's former presidents. The town survives on commercial fishing and whale watching. The bay that fronts the village is one of the major breeding and calving grounds for the gray whale. JT and I jumped on a boat with a very nice couple (he is American and she is Australian). They wanted someone to split the cost of the boat and the captain assured us that there were still three mothers with calves in the bay.

We had a good trip and motored alongside one mother and her calf for about an hour. They did not want to engage with us and kept us at a distance the entire time. We were able to get some other footage of coyotes, herons, frigate birds, and fishermen cleaning their catch on the island shores.

Both of us were in bad shape and needed showers in the worst way. When you can't stand yourself, you know you are affecting those around you. So, we secured a room in Ciudad Insurgentes for two nights to charge up all of our devices, download and copy data, and get a shower. We are also spending this time to go through footage and gear and get a feel for what we may need during the next month.

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 46

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.

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 45

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. 

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 42

Guest blog by Associate Producer Bri Bruce

Rose before the sun, an orange glow from the east across the gulf. The shorebreak echoed like thunder through the night, booming and reverberating against the stucco walls of the nearby houses. I took a short walk to the steps above the beach just as the sun was rising, creating a bright, eye-tearing glare off the water. There were already two surfers out at the rocky point, and I watched as they caught wave after wave, unencumbered. Their strokes were steady as they paddled back out to the lineup, then fluidly slid into the curling mouths of aqua waves rolling toward the shore. I was nearly giddy with excitement. 

Sunrise on the East Cape. 

Steer skull on the entryway.

On the walk back to the condo and while looking at the neighboring houses, I thought how strange it was (and what a feat of engineering, really) that these communities pop up all over Baja seemingly out of nowhere and in the middle of nowhere, so far from any central hub of a town or city. And most, if not all, have modern amenities--running water, electricity, cable, even wifi. On previous trips, calling home was unheard of. Checking email? Forget it. You were MIA for the duration of your stay. Completely disconnected. I prefer it that way. What happened to the simple life? Pura vida? Beachfront palapas, sleeping in the sand, catching fish or diving for rock scallops to feed yourself and your family, trucking in and storing water in 50-gallon drums, rise with the sun, sleep when its dark. . . . For such a long time this was, in my opinion, part of the allure of Baja: its harshness. You had to be okay with roughing it and going a few days or more without a shower, or devise creative ways to entertain yourself to pass the hottest part of the day. Sure, it was not an existence of convenience and undoubtedly many will disagree with my opinion. One travels to Baja to do just that: go to Baja. Immerse yourself in the sights, the culture. Why the need to bring home with you? Is it just a matter of comfort? How many resources are wasted for these kinds of conveniences? I can only imagine the waste associated with larger resorts and hotels along the cape. 

Baja is far from being Cabo; it is not Cancun. I hope it never will be, yet I can't help but fear it's evolution into a tourist destination is unstoppable.

Yes, the local economy benefits from tourism, but at the cost of Baja, its natural resources, flora and fauna. Large populations of tourists demand modern conveniences. This could mean a depletion of naturally occurring fresh water sources, or desalination plants for fresh water (at the cost of plant and animal life on land as well as already-sensitive marine life due to the resulting toxic brine), unsustainable (and perhaps unregulated) fishing practices, erosion, habitat destruction for fragile endemic species... the list goes on.

But is there a way to meld ecological preservation and tourism more seamlessly? Or does opulence breed opulence? Will one always outweigh the other?  

The World Conservation Union defines eco-tourism as "Environmentally responsible travel to natural areas, in order to enjoy and appreciate nature (and accompanying cultural features, both past and present) that promote conservation, have a low visitor impact and provide for beneficially active socio-economic involvement of local peoples."

One of our goals in making this film was to capture the beauty of Baja as it was at the turn of the last century, how it is now, and show what will happen if this region is forever at the mercy of those that want to exploit it. We are, at our core, eco-tourists, wanting to make as small an environmental impact as we can, enrich ourselves with Baja's culture, and appreciate it's beauty. We also want to share with the world all that defines Baja in hopes that our passion for it is contagious. To quote a number of conservation organizations, we protect the places we are most passionate about. Maybe we strike a chord in someone, or in a group of people. Maybe we bring to the surface all of the change over the last century, or of the importance of the work that Nelson and Goldman did for Baja's natural history. Maybe. We remain hopeful. 

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 41

Guest Blog by Associate Producer Bri Bruce

We woke early an spent the day on horseback. Oscar took us from the villa stables to La Boca de la Sierra, winding on a dusty road through the foothills of the Sierra la Laguna. Along the way, he stopped to point out and several species of plants and flowers, explaining what native Baja Californians would use for medicinal purposes. 

At one point, we traversed the Arroyo San Bernardo, and for a moment I felt as I imagined Nelson and Goldman once did during their time here, looking to either side of the road at the expanse of the dry river basin. To think that in this very canyon they rode their own horses during their own trek, over a century before. Suddenly we heard a loud whooshing noise, cross between a strong gust of wind and a plane flying overhead. When we looked up to where the sound was coming from, whatever it was was moving--and quickly--we saw a person, clad in helmet, gloves, and ropes, suspended from and rolling along a cable high above the arroyo. Zipline. All this before I could presume that little had changed in the last hundred or so years, with the exception of trash hung up in the underbrush and the branded cattle roaming about. Shortly after we came upon a small outpost, vans emblazoned with "Cabo Adventures," offering ziplining and ATVing to tourists from the cape. 

We continued on, noting the number of ziplines in the area, the platforms of various heights that were scattered among the peaks. Every now and then we heard someone whooping as they swung from one platform to the next along one of the the cables. We couldn't go five minutes without a bus full of smiling tourists lumbering down the narrow road or convoy of ATVers at our heels, revving their engines in an attempt to urge us to guide the horses to the shoulder. We were left to choke on their dust and calm the horses for some time afterward.

The road ended in a picturesque, rocky canyon that had collected rainwater in blue pools in its basin--a welcome reward for the journey. The water was remarkably clear for having been stagnant for some time, shrouded in grasses, a lone palm at the southeastern end. The horses drank and trotted through the water, clearly pleased, as several of them began pawing at the water, letting it splash around us. We did our best to cool off before filming a black water snake we had happened upon near a marshy crevice at the water's edge. Oscar tended to the horses, checking their saddles and upturning his hat, filling it with water from the canyon, and offering it to them to drink, pouring the rest over their necks and flanks.

I have a new respect for Nelson and Goldman and all they endured and were able to accomplish in this place. They must have been incredibly seasoned horsemen because I cannot imagine riding over 2,000 miles on horseback when only a day's ride has left me so sore and bruised I can hardly sit. 

On our return, the horses were eager to get back, picking up their pace to a trot despite Oscar's insistence (and our pulling at the reigns) that we not let them. Undoubtedly they were also growing more agitated at the constant convoys of ATVs whizzing past, coating us all in a fine layer of Baja dust. 

We finally made it back to Rigoberto's villa, hot and thirsty, the horses sweating and snorting. We helped Oscar wash and brush the horses, and then tie them up beneath some trees near the aviary to feed them alfalfa. Afterward, Oscar helped us in recreating a photograph that Nelson and Goldman took on their expedition of a vaquero in traditional dress. We were in awe. The photos we captured were nearly identical, down to the way the horse held his ears, the brim of Oscar's hat, the handmade leather chaps and saddle. This was truly a highlight of our time in the area, and truly a recreation of the original expedition we're aiming to recreate.

Oscar tending to his horses.

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Later in the afternoon, once packed, we bid Rigoberto and Oscar farewell and thanks, and continued south around the cape. After ten or so miles on a rutted and windy dirt road toward Cabo Pulmo, we arrived at our next destination: a gated community of houses and condos atop a cliff overlooking the ocean. We're staying at a condo belonging to a surfer from Southern California in one of the last small housing developments along the road.

The entire drive, as the sun was slowly descending toward the western horizon (and not over the ocean as I'm so accustomed to seeing back home) I watched the surf. The blue-green waves rolling around the rocky points near Nine Palms and Shipwrecks brought butterflies to my stomach.

We watched the sun set and the moon rise from the beach below the condo, watching as JT and Jade went for a swim, struggling with the shorebreak and the undertow. 

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 39

Guest blog by Bri Bruce, "The Devil's Road" Associate Producer

There is an acute and undeniable buzz in me--a palpable, electric thrumming. I'm keeping pace of it, all too aware of the nerves, an excitement I feel coursing through me right down to the tips of my fingers. And I know why. 

Though it's only been several years, I nearly felt my heart skip a beat at my first glimpse of the Sea of Cortez after some time. It's like seeing an old friend. This body of water is the definition of blue. Azure, cobalt, sapphire, cyan. Navy, midnight, indigo. In the cut out of the airplane window, this blue and all of its shades fills every space, halved by the plane's slice of wing. Slivers of peninsula in the distance are flanked by wisps and crescents of sandy beaches. Gusts of wind dimple the water's surface, making it look as though it is shimmering. This is the blue that one dreams about long after leaving; the blue becomes part of you.

This came to mind earlier, seated outside Gate 55 for Virgin America flight 751. I was consumed by visions of that gulf blue. In contrast, I am also reminded of the browns and tans and rusts of Baja's desert terrain. Memories become only a kaleidoscope of colors, each belonging to a part of this wild and desolate corner of the world: dusty green of cordon; impossible orange of the tulip tree; vermillion on the wings of fly catchers and cardinals; blue-black of night sky. When I think of Baja, it is in a canvas of colors and in a symphony of movement and sounds--even that of silence.

The plane dipped, and swung south over the cape. Slowly, cactus took shape, scattered as far as the base of the mountains to the north, and sectioned by straight lines of dusty roads. Before I knew it, the runway seemed to roll out beneath us, announcing our arrival. After bouncing briefly along the pavement, we came to a halt beside the terminal. 

When I stepped through the wall of heat pressing itself against the door of the airplane, immediately, as if by impulse or reflex, the word "home" came to me. Though I only stood on the tarmac of the San Jose del Cabo airport waiting for a bus beside all of the other luggage-laden passengers, I was distracted completely by thoughts of Baja--the Baja I have come to know.

For parts of my soul, this place is home. I'll never forget the desert's impossible silence, the drone of pangas in the shallow waters at dawn, machine-like clicking of cicadas at midday. As much the salt water of the gulf courses in my veins, I dream in the colors of the tala vera that adorn the entryways of tiendas and beachfront motels. On certain mornings, thousands of miles away from here, I'll notice the ocean at first light resembles the glassiness of the Sea of Cortez on a warm and windless morning. This is a Baja morning, I'll say. 

Yet, equally memory fails me, never serving again as it once did, reminded of change. With each visit, there is a vast, ever-shifting view to adjust for. I hold more fondly my oldest memories. The way things used to be. Change here is a recurring theme. Though some may call it progress or industry, it saddens me to see the quickly disappearing character and last vestiges of all that colorfully defines the Baja I've come to know intimately over my lifetime. Memories become a point of reference. The way things used to be.

Never before have I been so self-aware. I believe recent politics have lent a sharper edge to our presence here. We are Americans, gringos. Gueros. There has never been any denying our outsided-ness. Self-aware and self-conscious, I am guilty by association regardless. We often mock ourselves. Which of these are not like the others. Though we try, we are incapable of assimilating completely. We know this. 

But our respect and passion for the culture and the people and the places here keep us returning. And at this, I smiled at the bus driver who offered to load my bag into the bus, told him muchas gracias, and took a seat by the window.

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Headed north on a narrow stretch of uneven highway, we passed cinderblock fences, spikes of rebar exposed along their lengths, ranchitos with herds of goats grazing in the shade of bristly shrubs. Hot air blew in through the window. Everywhere, arms of cordon lifted skyward as if in praise. 

Twenty minutes later we turned east toward Miraflores. As we reached the central part of the town, we scanned the streets for several blocks. When we finally spotted the pair--in riding gear, bikes propped in front of a yellow building with the words La Tienda Popular overhead--their familiar faces were out of place. It was like seeing a mirage in the desert. 

For a long time, we didn't stop talking, clearly all of us excited to be reunited after a month and a half. We listened to stories of their journey, and were grateful they had come this far without significant incident. Knock on wood. 

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Miraflores is a small, picturesque sloping puebla nestled against the striking backdrop of the Sierra la Laguna. Several tiendas and brightly colored houses are connected by dirt roads in the central part of the town. Bougainvillea flowers of all colors creep along fences and brick facades. A handful of abandoned buildings remain propped along the roadside. As we arrived the sun was dipping behind the crags of the mountain peaks, the dust in the air lending a hazy, almost dream-like quality to the scene. Beams of light like beacons shown out over the valley below.

Over a century ago, Nelson and Goldman rode through Miraflores on horseback during their expedition, traversing a wide arroyo--Arroyo San Bernardo--a wide riverbed, now dry (as it was then during the time of their visit) and strewn with rounded boulders shaped by past floods. The valley leads right to the base of the Sierra la Laguna, just a stone's throw from where I sit now.

Of note, the pair spoke at length about the long-leaved, wide-trunked live oaks in the area that reminded them of those that can be found in California. The road to the villa, owned by Rigoberto, the great grand nephew of Jose Cuervo (and also a good friend of revolutionary Pancho Villa) meanders through a grove of them.

Rigoberto has invited us to San Jose del Cabo, where he owns a tequila shop that features  the brand he makes. We hope to learn more about the history of the industry and of the area. 

We spent the rest of the evening at a villa, catching up, drinking mezcal, and sharing a meal of burritos with carne asada from the carniceria in town.

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 30

Scorpion Bay to Comondu

San Juanico is the official name for this surfing and fishing village. The locals’ lives are spent around fishing and the gringos all are there for the surfing. During our visit, overlooking the bluff at the best surf spot around, known as Scorpion Bay, there were only three surfers in the water. Back home in Santa Cruz to have clean, head high waves that one could ride for half a mile with only two other surfers would be absolute paradise. I can see the attraction to this place.

Bikes on bluff overlooking Scorpion Bay (San Juanico)

"The Comondus" is how most gringos will refer to the two towns of San Jose de Comondu and San Miguel de Comondu. Both lie about a mile apart and are settled in a beautiful canyon with high lava and basalt rock walls. Goldman wrote that while standing on the wall edge overlooking the valley of these two towns is "one of the most beautiful in all of Lower California." Date and fan palms are widely abundant, crops of various vegetables are grown, and orchards of many varieties of trees seem to be happily growing in this well watered and fertile place.

Inside Mision San Jose de Comondu

It is a very sleepy and slow paced town with not much going on. When we arrived at the mission site, there was a group of children on a field trip. That seemed to be the most excitement the town had seen in a while. Nelson and Goldman wrote very little about this beautiful oasis town even though they spent five days here. In 1905, Nelson writes that date palms were scattered irregularly along the stream in a thin line through the vineyards and fields. Today the entire bottom of the canyon is a thick forest of date and fan palms. Several years ago the forest was subjected to a fire of strong intensity. The scorch marks reached to the tops of most trees and left a healthy fire scar on each tree. I suspect that it was a controlled burn to remove debris and litter dropped from the trees and to burn the dead hanging leaves of the fan palms.

While waiting for our next move and giving ourselves a break from filming in the harsh light of midday, we met and talked with two dirt bikers that rode into town. Greg and Eric had split off from the same group that we met in La Purisima. Both these guys were from Washington State and were quite the characters. We swapped motorcycle stories, learned about each other and our families, and mostly talked about how beautiful Baja is.

While we were all sitting on the side of the cobblestone road in the shade of a young ficus tree, another gringo approaches us from around the corner holding a map. He seemed glad to find someone that spoke English. Then he was glad that someone could tell him where he was. After that, his disappointment began to show. He was carying a single page map of Mexico that had a VERY small sliver showing Baja. He was using that to navigate from Cabo to San Diego.

I pulled out our map and showed him that he was 2 1/2 hours from where he needed to be (which was back were he had come from) and that no other road north was a viable option considering his vehicle and choice of navigation methods. This poor guy from Pennsylvania saw no humor in the matter and walked away with a curt "Thanks."

We camped that night a few miles out of town, well enough away from the water and the bugs, and just off the road so as not to be bothered by the noise of the traffic. Four cars drove past us that night. All of them slowed a bit (most likely they could see the flames of our fire) and then slowly drove off. One even gave us a little honk, just to say hi!

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 27

Loreto

Mission San Javier is (in our opinion) one of two of the most beautiful missions in all of Baja. Next to San Ignacio, this beauty is striking. The pueblo is a small ranchero community that seems to celebrate their heritage, their work, and the mission. Palms, 300-year-old olive trees, sugar cane, and other crops thrive on the fertile soil and abundant water. The sheer walls of the canyon stand out as a wonderful backdrop for every view of the mission. It is truly a must see!

We drove out to Puerto Escondido to get a few pictures of one of the other "ghost harbors." Although this one is in use and seems to do a fair amount of business, clearly construction stopped long ago and the best plans were never finished.

Twenty pesos. That was what it cost to get JT's bike fixed. A wire to his headlight switch came loose and needed to be soldered. Abel at the hostel was great at directing me to his friend's shop to do the repairs. Now it works great.

The picturesque San Javier Mission

"The Devil's Road" Main Expedition, Day 24

San Ignacio to San Jose de Magdalena

We wrapped up our filming in San Ignacio this morning by climbing the bluff above the town in an attempt to re-create the famous shot of the mission that Goldman took in 1905. Today, the trees have grown to such heights and buildings have been erected so as to completely impede any view of the mission. We found the other location of the second photo to be the same. I guess that is called progress!

An attempt to recreate Goldman's 1905 photograph of San Ignacio.

We saddled up and headed for Santa Rosalia. The short drive put us in town for the noontime rush. The taco stands in town were full and we were left to wander around, looking for one that had two seats for us. Next we set about filming the old El Boleo bakery, the church that Gustavo Eiffel designed, the mining operation, and the old mining ruins. After a full afternoon of filming on a busy Friday, we were ready to get out of town.

Bikes near the historic El Boleo site in Santa Rosalia.

That night we camped at a spot we found in May, just off the road to San Jose de Magdalena. As I set up camp, JT headed out to explore the nearby town of San Bruno and film. We had a great dinner of beef tacos with salsa verde and broccoli cooked over a fire.