"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, Day 8 - Part 1

Guest Blog by Wayne Bruce

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!  We caught two of the rare Nelson trout, not found any place else on the planet, at the same location (now the infamous Mike’s Sky Ranch) where the Nelson-Goldman Expedition camped in 1905.  Todd caught the first small trout (about 5 inches) but didn’t get a good photo of it because it wriggled out of his hands when removing the hook. Eric then caught the second Nelson trout and was able to get a good photo of its unique markings.

AN EXCITING, SUCCESSFUL DAY! Four of us, myself, Eric, Scott, and Lauri, along with a lot of food and gear, drove from our lodging at El Dorado Ranch to Mike’s Sky Ranch in Eric’s Honda SUV. Lauri filmed Todd and JT on their motorcycles by standing up through the car’s sunroof.  The sign to Mike’s Sky Ranch was an official green highway sign.  It took us over an hour to drive the 22-miles on a fairly good dirt road.  Only once was it too steep and rough for the Honda, when Eric locked it into 4WD and the transmission slipped, forcing us to stop. Fortunately, there was a bypass cut around the steepness and we were able to continue.

We arrived at Mike’s at about 1 pm. The ranch has about 30 rooms, a mess hall, a lounge, a bar, and a swimming pool full of cloudy water.  Mostly concrete construction, sparse but clean rooms, and a diesel-like smell that might have been remnants from some new paint.  Costs were higher here than surrounding areas, but we understand the difficulty of getting supplies to this remote area and the cost of maintaining the resort facilities.  Other than one couple, we had the entire place to ourselves. The resort is absolutely plastered with stickers, business cards, and T-shirts from other off-road bikers and racing groups that have visited over the nearly 50 years the resort has been here. 

We’re pleased with a day of successful filming, and are looking forward to the road ahead.

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 MAKING OF AN EXPEDITION: The Inspiring Story Behind "The Devil's Road"

On a hot summer day in 1891, a black-bearded man driving a buckboard lumbered down a dusty dirt road in the San Joaquin Valley of California. He had just completed a scientific expedition into Death Valley and crossed over the Sierra Nevada near Yosemite. A broken singletree on his wagon forced him to stop at a nearby ranch in search of needed repairs. His name was Edward William Nelson and he was a field naturalist working for the United States Bureau of Biological Survey. Mr. Jacob Goldman, the owner of the ranch, took a keen interest in the work Mr. Nelson was assigned. The two gentleman instantly realized their shared mutual interest in the natural world.

After Nelson mentioned his need for an assistant, Jacob Goldman offered, “Maybe my son, Edward, would do?” By chance, Mr. Goldman’s eldest son, Edward Alphonso Goldman, was just the person Nelson had been looking for. The elder Goldman quickly fetched his eldest son, who was at the time employed as a foreman in a vineyard near Fresno, California. The rest, as they say, is history.

On October 10, 1891, young Edward Alphonso Goldman, then 18 years old, rode off under the employ of Edward William Nelson as his field assistant. Their first assignment was to last three months and would entail a survey of the southern San Joaquin Valley and southern coast of California. Upon completion of that detail, the two men were then dispatched to another assignment. On January 24, 1892 the two naturalists landed in Manzanillo, Mexico, in the state of Colima. Their assignment was again to last three months. Instead, this assignment lasted fourteen years, ultimately resulting in a survey of every state and territory from coast to coast. Their last assignment through Lower California, now known as Baja California, was in 1905 and 1906.

Goldman and Nelson compiled impressive resumes during their field work in Mexico. They traveled by rail, stage, steamer, schooner, wagon, mule, horseback, and by foot, all while camping much of the time. Together they collected 17,400 mammals, 12,400 birds, countless plant specimens, and amassed an enormous fund of information on the natural history of the country. These specimens were sent to the Smithsonian Institution and ultimately included several hundred specimens of plants and animal that were previously unknown to science.

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Edward William Nelson (left) and Edward Alphonso Goldman (right)

President Theodore Roosevelt praised Edward William Nelson that he was, “one of the keenest naturalists [he has] ever met and a man of singularly balanced development.” And the work that the two naturalist did in Mexico has been described as “among the most important ever achieved by two workers for any single country.” 

The names and works of pioneers like Nelson and Goldman have been long forgotten by the few and unknown to the many. To most, Baja is an unforgiving wasteland of desert, cactus, and banditos. While some of that may be true, it is also a wildflower-strewn, sandy-beached, high mountain-ranged oasis with remarkable plants and incredible wildlife, some found only in this region. Such is the case with the Sierra San Pedro Martir, where several feet of snow falls each winter, the California Condor soars its skies, and its waters host the only native trout on the Baja peninsula, the Nelson’s trout (Salmo nelsoni, renamed in 1989 to Oncorhynchus mykiss nelsoni) named in honor of Edward W. Nelson. And near the old ruins of the mission Santa Gertrudis, is a 5,000-foot mountain that rises above others, Goldman Peak, Edward A. Goldman’s namesake.

These fascinating facts and incredible historical accounts have enticed a filmmaking team to dig into the Smithsonian Archives, dust off the history books, and set off on an expedition to follow Nelson and Goldman’s historic 1905 and 1906 expedition route. 

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