John had volunteered to bring the food and this was the
first lunch from his grab bag. His shopping trip was to the ninety-nine
cent store and the results were interesting, good eating and fun. He had
ninety-nine cents worth of salami, sliced ham, several cheeses, rolls,
pickles, plastic ware and other essentials. It was a grand picnic. We had
beer, of course. Mike and I are inclined toward stronger drink to fight
off the chill, real or imaginary, and I happened to discover a fifth of
Wild Turkey wrapped in my clothing bag. Between this and his flask of
brandy, we staved off severe chills for the next three days.
Before long we were running along the beach to the road which comes down
from Camalú. When we turned down this road toward the point, we were
stopped cold by a US style sign which said, “Sidewalk out. Walk on other
side”. When we were done laughing, we proceeded to the point where we
discovered a brand new motel nearing completion. It was the Cueva Pirata
(Pirate’s Cove). I bought a round of drinks to compensate for my bad call
on penetrating the non-existent bog. We made reservations for a “room for
four with two showers” and went on up the coast to Bahia Colonet.
Every wash and brushy area was just loaded with dove,
quail and rabbits. The hunters in the group were just drooling to be able
to supplement our diet. Once again, the Suburban did a superior job of
hauling our group of
I had mistaken the fact that the bar is only open on the week ends
when Mike is present and thought the motel was closed during midweek. Lest
one forget, each time we were stopped, and most of the time on the road,
there was a steady flow of intellectually enlightened conversation. There
were old experiences, new experiences, prognostications, adventures,
conquests, business, science, arts and deeds of valor to keep the
discussion constant and at an elevated level. Perhaps.
We then went down the civilized road from Mike’s to highway 3 in the San
Matias Pass. From there we went west over the pass and down to Diablo Dry
Lake which is a fifteen mile speedway in good weather and hopeless mud
after a rain. We stopped out in the middle because Mike requested to see a
genuine hot barren desert. It was hot, dry and barren indeed. Eric said
that San Felipe is visible from the observatory, so we studied the ridge
north of Diablo Peak (10,541 feet) to see if we spot the observatory. It
took a while to see the white dome, but once spotted, it seemed to
dominate the ridge, even with the afternoon sun behind it. It is a poor
day when you don't learn something. On the southern margin of the dry lake
there was a small, apparently deserted, cabin with a runway nearby.
four over difficult terrain. One washout required great finesse to climb a
soft bank at an angle. Both the Chevy and the driver received well
deserved accolades on that one. We went out to the highway at Colonet and
took the highway back to Camalú. As we went down
the gravel road to Cueva Pirata, we came to a big water truck broken down
blocking the road. Eric elected to do a bank shot and easily cleared the
truck’s bumper by several inches.
When we arrived at the motel, our room was ready. The room was not what we
expected at all and we considered refusing it, but then we started to
admire how clever it was and how great it would be for a family on a
fishing trip. The modestly sized room had two concrete bunk beds on the
back wall. There were steel vertical ladders to the two top bunks. At the
head of the beds was the door to the bathroom. Sure enough, there were two
showers, one on each side of the commode and sink, in an undivided room.
The water pressure was extremely low so I would have been difficult to get
wet under either shower, but there was both hot and cold water at the tap.
Shortly, the disabled water truck was towed in, water pressure
restored, and we got our most welcome showers.
John spread the ninety-nine cent menu on the dresser, but the super
tamales we purchased in Ensenada provided the main course. We had such a
good day that nothing could deter us from having an enjoyable evening and
thence to bed. The motel was hooked up to municipal electricity so we
could keep Eric pumped up all night and we slept well. John found climbing
into the top bunk very difficult because the right hand grip was removed,
so he refused to get up for calls of nature and held it back until
morning.
In the morning we pretty much skipped breakfast, got gas in Camalú and
went up the highway to the turn off for San Telmo, Meling ranch, and
Mike’s Sky Ranch. This road is now paved for twenty four miles, well into
the foothills. The goal of this paving is to provide easier access to the
internationally respected observatory on the ridge to the west behind
Meling ranch. We went over the ridge and dropped into the Meling Ranch.
It is a little difficult to think that it is catering to the tourist
trade. We did not stop to see what was stored in the shed. The road out
the south end of the lake is a sandy uphill which has been seriously
fluffed up by race vehicles speeding up the slope. The Suburban was really
struggling to get our portly posteriors up the grade, but Eric crossed
over to a very lightly used track made be others who preferred not to
fight the sand. Before long, we were at Morelia Junction where I entered
the Great Race in 1988. From that point, we were on a principal graded
road leading northwest to highway 5 seven miles north of San Felipe. The
weather was so clear that when we came over a rise we could see the Gulf
of California and even the mountains of Sonora about eighty miles away.
After about ten miles, we discovered a smooth winding graded road going
southwest. “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” so we turned
and had a great time doing the grand slalom down the lazy “S” curves
toward town. We stopped at Pete’s Camp, El Paraiso, for a drink at the bar
and to show Mike how the camps north of San Felipe sit on a high bluff
with access to the seven miles of sandy beach below. Pete’s has grown a
great deal with nice permanent houses since I was first there in 1991.
Thus refreshed, we went to San Felipe to rest our nerves which were
frazzled by having met two cars in 184 miles of off highway travel. Such
traffic! We checked into two double rooms at the El Cortez Motel on the
beach. So upscale, all night electricity, TV, air conditioning, drinking
water, and a double bed for each of us. From the El Cortez we went
directly to Tony’s Loncheria La playa on the Malecón.
Malecón is defined as levee, dike or jetty in my Spanish dictionary, but
in Baja it means sea wall. It would be the boardwalk if it weren’t
concrete. Tony’s is my all time favorite source of fish tacos. We sat
upstairs, looking out through the open wall, and had round after round of
hot fresh fish tacos.
There have been many reports about the ranch being closed to guests and/or
reopened. Eric has many wonderful memories of staying at the ranch in his
youth, and we went in to find out for sure. We arrived about a quarter
after ten and were greeted by two ladies of the Meling family, Blanca and
Mili. They said that the ranch was open for business and they cooked us a
wonderful breakfast of eggs, machaca, beans, tortillas, coffee & tea, and
salsa. Eric chatted with the ladies in Spanish while we toured the
grounds. Wonderful things about the ranch are the absolute freedom from
traffic noise and the clear, clean air. Some of the guest houses seemed to
be a bit behind on maintenance.
Eric wanted to talk to Andy Meling, one of the three original Meling
children, about some property, and we learned that he was up at El Coyote
ranch. El Coyote is on the ridge north of Meling ranch. I have been past
it many times on the way to Mike’s Sky Ranch, but had never gone in. Andy
was, indeed, at home at El Coyote and while Eric talked to him, Mike and I
talked to Andrea for a while. Then we went to a picnic table under a large
pepper tree in the meadow and sat in the cool breeze. Again the peace and
quiet of the area were wonderfully relaxing. Andy is building several nice
duplexes on the property and planning to open a guest ranch. After this
pleasant interlude, we went on up the road to Mike’s Sky Ranch about
fourteen miles away. Distance means little on this stretch of rugged road,
it once took me three hours. It was in better condition this time and we
made it in a little over one hour. Again, the Suburban showed it’s
versatility.
Just before we arrived at Mike’s, a very large boulder
had fallen into the middle of the road. We couldn’t pass it on the bank
side, so we carefully went around the drop off side. Mike Healy was
sitting in the left rear seat and felt like his butt was hanging over the
cliff. Eric said, “Healy, what is down there.” Mike answers something
like, “I d-d-d-don’t know, and I d-d-d-don’t want to find out.” Shucks,
Eric missed the boulder by a good two inches and the drop off by four. At
Mike’s we had a round of beers and learned that the motel is open 365 days
a year.
The
accompanying chopped onions, cilantro, radishes, guacamole, mayonnaise and
cabbage were served just as fresh at eight PM as they were at eight AM.
Thus satiated, we went to the motel for a good night rest.
I woke early in the morning and quietly dressed to go for a walk. When I
knocked the flashlight on the tile floor, Eric about jumped out of bed. So
much for a quiet exit. I decided to walk a couple of blocks inland and get
coffee and drinking water at the AM PM, yes, AM PM mini-mart. As I went
past the police station, the officers were coming on shift and manning,
and womaning, their very nice fleet of black and white off-road pickups
and SUV’s. At the corner there is a big Hospital sign, I did a double take
when I saw the name, St James Infirmary. This is the title of a New
Orleans blues song written in 1928 and made famous by Cab Calloway in
1930. The name should help Americans feel welcome. The 24 hour AM PM had
reasonable good coffee and I bought two gallons of water for the road.
After getting gas, we went north on highway 5 to the junction with highway
3 which we took to Ensenada. Near Ensenada we took a side road to the
resort of Agua Caliente. This complex has a restaurant, motel and rooms
surrounding a large hot springs pool. They were once renown for serving
Tequila from a large jug containing a rattle snake. The complex is now
shut down except for swimming in the pool by local people. There were
about a dozen adults and children swimming in the pool when we stopped. It
is a very pleasant valley with many large oak trees. In Ensenada, we
decided to go up to Calle Once (Eleventh Street) where El Ferrocarril (The
Railroad) serves wonderful lamb tacos. Eric was shocked that I had not
discovered this gustatory gem previously. Then we left John and Mike at
the Motel Santa Isabel where they were going to meet up with some more
long time fraternity brothers for a week end of fun and frolic.
Eric and I came on up to San Diego where we were happy to find my pickup
safely at The Padre Trails Inn, but disappointed to learn that the bar was
closed because we had planned on an end of the trail debriefing. I
suggested that we meet at Marietas near his home and on my way home. That
turned out to be a fortuitous inspiration. We had an excellent dinner,
very good Margaritas, and the privacy to talk some more. Then a lone
troubadour appeared with his guitar and sang classic Mexican folk tunes.
After this nostalgic trip to places of his youth with friends of many
years, Eric was ready for his favorite old tunes to culminate a perfect
four days. The fellow knew the tunes Eric loved and Eric sang along on
some and quietly translated others for me. It was, indeed, a perfect
ending for a wonderful adventure.
when Mike is present and thought the motel was closed during midweek. Lest
one forget, each time we were stopped, and most of the time on the road,
there was a steady flow of intellectually enlightened conversation. There
were old experiences, new experiences, prognostications, adventures,
conquests, business, science, arts and deeds of valor to keep the
discussion constant and at an elevated level. Perhaps.
In the morning we pretty much skipped breakfast, got gas in Camalú and
went up the highway to the turn off for San Telmo, Meling ranch, and
Mike’s Sky Ranch. This road is now paved for twenty four miles, well into
the foothills. The goal of this paving is to provide easier access to the
internationally respected observatory on the ridge to the west behind
Meling ranch. We went over the ridge and dropped into the Meling Ranch.
