THE BIG BLOW -- BAJA '06
by
Stuart Chase
Wednesday, September 27, 2006 18:19
This is our story and told as the days unfolded and with TT's personal notes/comments
It all started as a simple Mexico trip to see where the '06 "1000" may go plus have a good time with friends.
The group included (son) Eric Chase, Gary Johnson, and myself in my Tahoe. Chris & Dyann Wilson and TT in Chris's Bronco. Gary and I left Burbank the Thursday night before the weekend, spent the night in SD, met Eric and Chris Wilson in the AM and set out to Ensenada to pick up TT at the San Nic and headed south.
Our plan was to make San Ignacio by that night and begin our tour early Sat morning. Our first incident was a hole in the Bronco radiator around Camalu. Chris remembers dropping a 3/8 nut in the radiator shroud while installing various components weeks before and did not hear it hit the ground; what's new. Seems the fan picked it up and sent it through the radiator; bit of aluminum stop leak and good to go.
We arrived in San Ig as planned, ate drank [a lot] at Rice and Beans, and went to bed. We were up early, I was hung over from a triple scotch, but we were hot to go, trouble was no power in San Ig; hence no gas or cell service to determine what may be the problem. This was our first clue that shit was brewing. At Rice and Beans we had had internet access and the weather forecast had showed the storm in La Paz, traveling at 9 mph headed N by NW. No problem, we could make our trip with time to spare and have some rain in Loreto, at worst.
Mision San
Ignacio
My wife and Gary's were scheduled to fly to Loreto Sat, meet us there for an enjoyable evening. The following day a bit more exploring, back to The Inn at Loreto Bay with the ladies, and we would head back Monday midday. The girls would then fly out the next day. About the time we had cell service in San Ig we learned Loreto airport was closed and the girls would be diverted to Hermosillo, MX. Once we had cell service we called and told them to stay home. We now expected weather issues but a run through La Purisima to Loreto seemed acceptable.
We got fuel at noonish and headed to San Juanico. About halfway there we lost brakes in the Tahoe, a line had vibrated and cracked the rear flared fitting, at the T block.
The Road to El
Datil Is Plenty Wide and Half-fast
We did a field fix and hauled ass. Eric was driving since we left San Ig doing well until the field fix broke just as we were approaching a left hand turn with a "good" (i.e., "bad") drop off to the right.
(TT Note: This was marked by a l-o-n-g series of red-painted rx. The gas guys in San Juanico said that a MC tour rider had run off a few years back and was killed, bad. "His brains were in his helmet", they told me.)
Eric sensed he could not gas it and pitch it so he turned into the drop-off and we went for a wide-eyed ride. TT looked over his shoulder, saw it and said; "F@#@#@_they went over the cliff." We had a rough ride to the bottom and miraculously damaged nothing.
Drove to San Juanico with no brakes, to Hector's mechanic shop [metal works "LA OLA" phone 01 (52) (613) 137-5331 in San Juanico -- is the first building in town by a white dump truck. That number is on his business card: a "011", not a "01", is from USA.]
(TT Note: "52" is the Mexico country code (not used in Mexico); "613" is the San Juanico area code.)
Taller
Oscar
He fixed it for $10 bucks and a $10 tip. Made a friend and arrangements for emergency pit service, if need be, in November. Call him for pit service, pay him well; he's good, welds electric, gas, aluminum -- Oscar Aguila.
(TT Note: We got gas around the corner at Antonio's. $3.20 a gallon. The local Policia were driving around anouncing flooded vados. We laughed; what did THEY know! We were Checkers!)
San
Juanico "Pemex" Station
(TT Note: The reportedly-paved road from San Juanico to the La Purisima road laste only eight (8) kilometers -- out of town (?) -- then became the WORST ROAD IN THE WORLD! A cruel hoax, indeed! Six, or eight-inch-deep stutter bumps spaced at twelve inches.)
It was now about 4 pm Saturday and we headed west over the mountains, and hit heavy rain just past La Purisima but kept going, shit, we will be there in an hour or so.
San
Isidro Aqueduct
Less than halfway there, both trucks were running in low range for the whole distance.
(TT Notes: CW was full throttle, full lock [both ways]!)
We come down a slight grade, the First Obstacle, 4-5 feet deep, 100 feet across, is there. After two minutes of staring -- trying a walk-through in white-water -- at it we backed up a half-mile to high ground and held on for the night. It was about 8-9 pm now; nothing to do but try and sleep; for me, that did not happen all night.
As I was sitting there thinking of all the possible problems, such as high water coming down the road we were on, or what side of the road we would run to grab a tree if the water started moving the truck towards the wash, I saw lights. Could not believe any other people would be up here in this category 1.5 blow.
(TT Notes: I told Chris that if this was a Mexican in a Nissan and he went through the wash we were gonna be on him like stink on dog shit!)
I jumped out with full rain gear, approach the car having no idea that it would be world-class surfer Chris Ward with the Mike Reola, Pres. and CEO of LOST, a $20 Mil per year clothing company, in the back seat with a high-def camera shooting my conversation with Ward
Chris Ward
and his buddy Teddy Navarro. They drove with their heads out the side windows due to a windshield beign shattered!
Teddy (L)
I told them we were all there for the night and they should stay put; they did. They had smokes and Vodka; I had scotch, one for me, one for TT.
Never experienced such rain. It felt like a fire hose on the roof, all doors were leaking and the truck was moving back and fourth. Eric defrosted the windshield from time to time so we could see the road condition, [rising water]. This went on all night with a slight break about 3:30 am then blasted again until dawn.
(TT Note: Worse issue – having to get out to pee. 110% chance of being soaked THROUGH the skin!)
Later in Loreto a pilot (more on this later]
showed me his weather map and for the first time I could see the Hurricane
had passed right up the middle, the eye was on our head at 11:00 pm. Hurricane John was scheduled to blow
over the tip and out to the Pacific.
Another mild hurricane had developed off the west cost of the tip and
pushed John back to the center of the peninsula. All this developed from noon Saturday to 11:00 pm the same
day. At noon the weather said N
by NW at 9 mph, when it changed course it hauled ass straight up onto us.
At first light it had stopped. We all headed back to the First Obstacle to find it was now 200-300 feet wide. And deeper than the night before.
(TT Note: debris in treetops provided mute testimony to a ten-foot high water level.)
Not
Good
We waited from 7:00 am until 1:30 pm for the water to drop.
Tony
T -- Ruined It For Himself!
Running out of patience I tied the rear of my Tahoe to the front of Chris' Bronco with the plan that if I started to sweep down the river, Chris would stand on the gas in reverse and pull me back.
It worked, I got across, pulled Chris, then the surfers hammered it.
First Success
That maneuver took 6.5 hours; we went another half-mile to the next rutted-out slick, shitty section. We spent another mud-bogged four hours getting all three trucks through there; everyone stuck badly at least once.
(TT Note: Earlier, at Punta Conejo, the Lozt Boyz did some photo jumps and a water crossing, -- which hydroplaned the Titan into a Cardon.)
Dude! You busted my wind screen!
El
Cardon: Pachycereus pringlei
(TT Note: One of the fluid-filled arms took out the driver's side windshield so that Chris had to drive with his head out the window with Teddy steering from the right seat. Fuckin' A!)
(TT Note: We experienced most of the human emotions: fear, loathing, glee, depression, resignation, hope, despair É but never anger! We were blessed with nine intelligent, reasoning, problem-solving people ... no knee-jerk "We're doomed" shit!)
Absolute jubilation when we got through both of those problems, sun's out; time to head for Loreto.
Our high hopes crashed [again] a mile or so later when I saw Chris Wilson stopped in front of a small rancho, word was, there is a bridge out and is impassible, even for a bunch of Checkers.
It is now Sat afternoon and we now knew this was not a good thing.
After some hospitality coffee (TT Note: Best Nescafe I've had!) we decided we needed to try a reverse tactic back to La Purisima. That idea worked for a short section 100 yard past our first night in the storm spot. The hill was long, steep, and (what else?) impassable. We tried it anyway, almost rolled the Bronco, and elected to go back to the rancho but stopped short at a scenic spot and decide to make camp, party, and eat Squeeze Cheese, crackers, baloney, and (the last of the) Scotch.
Campo Baso
Numero Dos
This was a better night, better sleeping, and not so worrisome.
(TT Note: Still sleeping sitting up!)
First light all three trucks moved to the farm house (Note: Dirt floor and palm frond ceilings and walls = no leak-o!) for an additional cup of coffee and a planning session with the realization we had a "problem" and needed to think this one through.
The biggest asset we had was Chris Wilson's sat phone and at that time we made all the calls that everyone had ultimately heard about. Mike, the "Lost" CEO, had called trying to make arrangements for both an aerial food drop and or a pickup on Highway 1 if anyone was able to reach it. That idea was abandoned when we realized this was still August and temps were 100+ and the walkers had 18 miles to go. They would be dead. We opted for the food drop plan. This was after careful assessment of our food supply and the fact the farmer was not willing to kill animals, at least not at this juncture.
We had seen an abandoned ranch back a bit and decided to kill one of their pigs; the owner was not there and we planned to leave some money.
Campo Rancho
Calagua
The Tanque Of
The Hills
Frequented
by mountain lions, bobcats, wolves, coyotes, deer, iguanas, rattlers, desert "tortugas"
Kenny (local
muchacho) and Eric In The Bat Cave
Question now was who got to kill the pig. Just how do you approach this, the neck, heart, throat, what? Lot of debate, more discussions. When do you ever plan on dinner this way unless you have hunting experience?
Next move was a bath for everyone in the creek. It was clean and also our drinking water.
It was coming up on noon, Monday, real hot and from the west came a guy on a horse, FUCKING WOW, only to hear absolutely impassable to the west {GLOOM, DESPAIR}-- that won't work
About 1:45 PM from the east came two more riders, both on mules. After a conversation between the rancher and the cowboys, us not really understanding the magnitude of this visit just yet, we were then asked, "Do you guys want a ride to Loreto; we have at truck 4-5 miles down the road, but it's a bad hike to it."
We broke camp in 10 minutes gone in 15, TT in the lead. We thanked our hosts, left blankets and all supplies we could spare and locked the trucks
The first section was 200 feet downhill, huge rocks, left after the storm had washed the dirt away. For the next 4-5 mile trek it was washouts and very fast moving sections of water crossing the road. Gary Johnson had sprained but not broken his ankle earlier, at least he heard a "crack" and was having a very hard time with this hike. Eric and I tried to help support but stubborn Gary says, "I'm alright" but he was looking flushed.
It's 100+ now, not a good thing. One of the riders offered Gary a lift on the donkey; Gary resumed his typical chatter the rest of the way. Chris did not like the heat either and was ahead of us and took a break in the creek. Anything to reduce body temp.
Finally we see the truck that carts us to Loreto, 9 gringos in a pickup driven by a Mexican, what's different about this picture? The rooms are not available even with reservations; storm conditions changed everything. The receptionist set us up at another hotel, worked just fine.
We went to El Nido for a steak dinner with many drinks, back to the hotel and bed. As we are lying on the beds reflecting Eric says I don't believe this, just seven hours before this we were considering how we would kill to eat.
Tuesday AM I'm sitting on the porch looking at the Sea of Cortez and imagining what it looked like two days ago. I notice two guys talking downstairs and I hear airplane talk, HMMMM, I say need to meet this guy. I introduce myself. He is Vice President of Click Bond, Inc., a company, centered in Reno, Nevada but his plane is hangared at Burbank; what a unbelievable coincidence, plus he has two extra seats, no charge,
The guy was down scouting movie locations have his card; good Baja contact. Gary and TT split in the twin, buzz the La Purisima area, do customs at the border, and home.
TT has to do the autobus dance to Ensenada to get his truck but that's easy.
Tuesday Chris and I went to City Hall; our day was spent politicking in an attempt to get assistance to extract our trucks.
The surfers split [fly]; said they would come back and get their truck, if it's there.
Arrangements were made after Chris attended a council meeting Wednesday, explaining our dilemma and that of the people on the mountain. It's in another county but somehow Chris made the deal and we were scheduled to meet the contractor at 10:00 AM Thursday to head up the mountain with a tractor, flatbed, and loader. WE WERE STOKED. Ten becomes eleven then twelve finally it looks like it will go. I have been getting cell business calls for two days, Chris and Eric assured me they are all right going solo on the extraction and that I NEED to get back, so I flew out Thursday at 4:00 PM.
I am now home, it's eleven PM, and I got a call from Eric. They are OFF the mountain with the trucks. WOW.
I had, previously, rcvd a call from Eric at 8:00 am, Friday; our money contribution to get the trucks couldn't be credit cards or checks, what the next, Murphy's Law at its best. I went to my bank and arranged fora wire transfer to the contractor's bank in Loreto. That took 2-and-a-½ hours. Eric and Chris left Loreto, got to El Rosario ("Mama Espinosa's") for the night, crossed the border at noon Saturday. I took an Amtrak to SD, met Eric, and brought my dirty, bent, leaking truck home.
It was phenom that I have never come close to experiencing, but would not have traded it for a trip anywhere, anyplace. Being a part of everyone, working together to move to the next challenge, was a fascinating thing.
(TT Note: Our discussions were thoughtful and unemotional. No idea was categorically dismissed a "stupid" or "wrong". Items were only discussed and either accepted, tabled, or discarded for "reason". Good social and problem-solving dynamics, where no one was afraid to voice an opion or idea, no matter how inane (JOKE!).)
(TT Note: Everyone got filthy, muddy. Post-holing calf-deep would pull off tour shoes! Think red gumbo mud. Dyann and Chris went for "flops"; the surfers went au natural. I kept my boots and wool socks on far too long and really tenderized my feet = dumb-o move-o.)
The star of the trip was Chris Wilson's wife. This a lady, remember, with eight guys in a bad place at a bad time!
(TT Note: Dy had an almost bottomless cache of snacks: Real CheeZe Squeeze; various cracks which eventually suffered the humidity; several types of tail mix É plus Chris' steenky cigars! She provided horse d' ovaries and snacks – enough for the mind, at least. We DID have plenty of water, both in bottles and clean running over rocks.)
#############################################################################
Chris Wilson's race-deZert.com post
All in our group have safely returned and we got the prerunners home today.
Man, I love Baja, never a dull moment! Met lots of great people down there and came home with some wild stories.
The caballeros that guided us out via hiking and horseback were willing to go back in to deliver a load of food and staples we paid for to the ranch we holed up at two days after the storm. As it dries out, the locals were already rolling boulders and shoveling dirt to open access to all the local ranches.
Those hardest hit were in the washes such as Mulege and La Purisima. Unbelievable amounts of water. Remote valleys had 15 feet of flowing water over 1/4-mile-wide. Even four days after the storm, we had to drive through several three-foot-deep flowing rivers once we got off the mtn. For example, the big wash just south of Santa Rosalia had a high water mark 60 feet above the valley floor. This is a 1/4- mile-wide wash. The valley floor is scoured clean: no soil, no trees, nothing but huge boulders - all else is in the sea.
Sometimes the best prerunner in the world is just a horse.
Special thanks to Sal Fish and Oscar Ramos for providing local contacts we used to arrange for the heavy equipment we brought in to open access to the ranches and extract our trucks.
Lesson learned? Never trust the storm track of these big storms. Last we saw via internet at San Ignacio should have had the storm missing our route by 175 miles. Instead we were cut off by water and took a direct hit on top of the mountains at 11pm. The next day we spent a full day to move three serious 4x4s about two miles to a rancho with a working well so we had unlimited drinking water.
For those curious where we were, it was a little rancho called "Calagua" on what used to be the road from La Purisima straight east to Hwy 1. This road comes into Hwy 1 about ten miles south of Bahia Conception. Calagua is about 28 km into this road from Hwy 1. It's were the map shows a little S-bend in the road. This spot is up high overlooking a wash with 500-foot-high cliffs. It looked to me exactly like looking down at the Colorado or Green Rivers from Canyonlands. You could of white water rafted from there to La Purisima twp days after the storm.