Mike Humfreville
Super Nomad
Posts: 1148
Registered: 8-26-2003
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the old road
The Old road. A tiny, two-tire track that wound between the cardon and cirio and caused the average driver to traverse a swatch at about 10 miles in
an hour, not including pit stops. I made about 100 miles per day driving dawn to dusk. It was more intimate back in those years, you could just stop
whenever you wanted and you?d not have too pull off because there was nothing to pull off into and beside, there was no one else there.
On the slight chance you encountered someone, either you or they were broken down and no one, local or traveler, would ever pass another by. It was
an opportunity to stop and help and visit. Language is no barrier between rural travelers and damaged equipment.
There was more life in the desert then, or maybe, actually, there was less threat from a high-speed highway before the small desert beasts had grown
to know it.
There was a lot of dust. Dust worked into the skin of your arm where it hung out the window port and settled, along with the sunburn, as you drove
south throughout the afternoon and sun was working westward. Dust pounded down into all the small crevices of your coche and eventually gummed up
everything. You somehow knew you?d never be rid of it, and that once back north of the border it might be a bragging point or an embarrassment
depending on your audience.
I was hearing, back then, that the pavement was going to happen. I took a trip with a JPL pal, Sally Mac, in 1970ish, down the entire peninsula. The
company that had been hired to do the paving had chosen to do it in sections along the peninsula. We encountered all of them.
The tiny track that had wound to avoid cactus was replaced with a bulldozed massacre designed, in engineering terms, to facilitate the roadbuilder.
The actions of the construction company met the requirements of their contract with the Mexican Government, I?m certain. And the resulting road met
the needs of the peninsula, I?m sure. But they destroyed the aesthetics involved. The peninsula would never be the same in my eyes.
Perhaps it?s better now for those that live there 24/7/52. They can get to the doctors and dentists and to the major supply centers more rapidly now
than then. I?m happy for them. It?s in their best interest I guess.
For many years after the peninsula was paved the government erected large signs along the route that proudly announced that ?this is not a high speed
highway.? An elephant was presented along some of the first signs. They were so large that I almost spun off into the dirt reading them. And I know
and appreciate that the paved road is a definite improvement to the folks that live there.
I could even say that I?ve found value in the asphalt in that it gives me greater access quickly to places deeper in the peninsula so I can get off
that damned structured surface and onto a piece of dirt that I must negotiate with, to know the composition of, to comprehend tire pressure and know
my vehicle and how it handles and actually see what I saw 30 years ago and before the pavement. Back then I saw a small rodent and paused. I took
the time to watch a hawk. A buzzard landed atop a tall cactus and caught my eye. The sun on evening filtered through the cardon confusing me with
fragmental reflections
But I still remember riding south from San Luis (Catavina these days) on the passenger side of a Servicio Particular truck, before the pavement was
even a thought, with my friend Epifanio Ybarra, and my dustcovered arm being bruised from banging all day on the window port.
I want only for the best for the locals that live there. Honestly. But my heart is in those years before the pavement went in. We were new friends
then, she and I, but I loved the folks, was greeted warmly everywhere, never threatened, and I dealt with all with respect.
That happened before they paved her. But I guess, as I reflect, It?s still a small ribbon.
I just miss all that damned dust.
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fishinrich
Nomad
Posts: 286
Registered: 8-28-2003
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dust
Mike--just clean out your air filter there is plenty of baja dust in it. Yes I miss the large signs with the elephants on them and no I had not been
eating peyote, they realy did exist. In a few days I will be driving up and down the pacific side for a month. Launching and spearfishing out of my
"secret" coves. After these kinds of trips I will be exporting a lot of baja tierra and yes it always feels funny when when I hit the pavement again.
Kickin up a cloud---fishin rich
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lewm
Junior Nomad
Posts: 50
Registered: 11-9-2003
Location: Montana
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Road
Those were the days when there were no locks on the doors. Nobody was going to steal anything. Once you got passed the border towns it was a different
world. I only wished I would have had more time to enjoy it. Each trip was an adventure.
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4baja
Super Nomad
Posts: 1339
Registered: 9-4-2003
Location: morro bay ca
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hey rish, were you going? i'll be down there at the end of sept. with my boat in tow.
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bajaloco
Nomad
Posts: 159
Registered: 12-5-2002
Location: Huntington Beach, California
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Mood: wishin I was fishin
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Mike...What a wonderful way you have with words. You truly have a talent to paint a picture in someone's mind. Always in a pleasant way. I understand
your feeling about the road and what it did for baja and it's people. When we travel Baja we feel a slight urgency to see as much as possible. It
changes so quickly, you worry that you might miss something wonderful. Then you happen upon somewhere that you know has been as it is forever....Gary
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Mike Humfreville
Super Nomad
Posts: 1148
Registered: 8-26-2003
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Thanks guys...
for the kind words. With me nearing retirement and planning to live part time in Baja I find myself, when we travel up or down the peninsula,
realizing that soon enough I'll be able to take this and that side road to who-knows-where just to see whatever there is to see. Fishinrich I don't
know how you can find all the time to get tp spend in Baja you lucky fellow.
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David K
Honored Nomad
Posts: 64535
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: San Diego County
Member Is Online
Mood: Have Baja Fever
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Thanks Mike... now I want to drive as much as I can on it! Like those who are fascinated by Route 66 in the U.S., we who remember the old road would
like to preserve it!
The post I made on finding the old road today is: http://forums.bajanomad.com/viewthread.php?tid=1971
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Mike Humfreville
Super Nomad
Posts: 1148
Registered: 8-26-2003
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How 'bout gasoline in those days...
Late 60?s and my first adventure south of San Vicente. I was riding as a passenger in a stock VW with my roommate, Major Bruce. We didn?t have a
clue what we were getting into but we were smart enough to read a map and see that El Rosario was a sort of jumping off point into the central desert.
We asked, at the old Pemex there, south of the turn at Mama?s, about gas to the south.
?Just buy it from the ranchers.? Everyone told us.
Well that seemed a little odd but who were we to say, the greenest guys on the peninsula?
I don?t know how many gallons Major Bruce?s ?dub held but with the nasty climb up the arroyo?s south of El Rosario and into the steep pulls working
along the road into the mountains beyond and throwing rocks and red dust upward everywhere we were burning gas big time. In the hours it took us to
drop into the central desert we were below a half-tank.
The road wasn?t quite over the same terrain then as it is now but it was narrow and we were going pretty slow and it was easier to spot the tiny
ranches along the way. They actually wanted you to spot them, just like today, because there might be a visit involved and, less important, you might
require a cold one.
We stumbled across a lonely rancho 50-60 miles from anything else that even remotely resembled humanity. Major Bruce and I looked at each other and
both glanced back at the gas gauge.
?Should we???
?Absolutely.?
So we pulled into an area cleared of weeds and just inside a cardon-ribbed fence with a few green spikes actually growing from the tops, shut off the
engine. A senora quickly disappeared into an old adobe and shortly a man came out.
?Hola. Buenas Dias.?
We chatted about the beauty of his location and the weather and how he liked living here and where were coming from and headed. Soon his two children
came out to see what was happening.
?Hay gasolina para vender?? I asked. Do you have gas to sell?
?Si, tango un poco.? He had a little.
?Cuanto vale?? What is its value? I don?t remember the price. Certainly it was slightly above the pump price but was more than reasonable
considering the efforts he had to go through to get it here.
?Podemos comprar viente litros?? I asked. Can we buy 20 liters?
?Si.?
?Y este no es un problema para Vd? Si vende 20 litros?? If you sell us the 20 liters does that cause you a problem?
?No, Senor.?
So we committed to the gasoline not knowing what else to expect. The rancher led us to a set of 55 gallon drums a few yards away, grabbed a 4-foot
shard of hose, a ?mangera,? opened one of the drums and siphoned gas into a five gallon ?lata.? From there he toted the lata to our ?dub and siphoned
it into the tank.
We paid him and slipped a few pesos extra that he never saw until after we were gone. We thanked him, told the kids goodbye and were off in a whirl
of dust into the next building block that would eventually lead us to complete sentences we could form about the peninsula.
When we left that lonely rancher and his family, I knew I was personally hooked. There was something about the warmth, honor and dignity that I had
experienced there for the first time. It?s grown in me since that moment.
It?s an old saying, I know. And a clich?. But you really do have only one chance to make a good first impression.
Major Bruce never went back to Baja, south or Rosarito Beach anyway. We?ve remained close friends ever since, as we were before our trip. We pulled
back onto the old dirt track and continued south with an almost full tank of gasoline. The dust continued to swirl around us in the afternoon breezes
there. We eventually found a wide spot in the road and made camp.
In the morning Major Bruce told me he wanted to go home. He was worried about beating his ?dub up. I understood. It was nearing the end of an
adventure for him. And the beginning of one for me.
Regardless where we end up in life, how many adventures we have along our journeys down dusty roads or smoothly paved surfaces there are always I hope
a few folks that cause us to form permanent recollections of small slices of time in which we interacted, where we had a first experience that opened
a door to greater exposure.
That was my rancher.
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lewm
Junior Nomad
Posts: 50
Registered: 11-9-2003
Location: Montana
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cars
Mike, your road story sure brings back some memories. In 1972 I bought a new Honda Civic. My ex-wife thought I was nuts since I always drove a big
car. I had some time off so I talked a buddy of mine into taking a trip down to Baja. We loaded up the little Honda including our bicycles on the back
& headed south. I think there were only about 50 miles that was not completed. Got stuck in the sand a few times. Local travelers helped get us out.
We also returned the favor to others. Made it all the way to Cabo. Had to leave Cabo because a big storm was appoaching. Spent the night at the sand
spit at Concepcion. Rained all night. Slept under an 8'x10' tarp tied to the car. Many stories on that trip. Thinking about it I probably had the only
Honda in Baja. I guess I would have had to shoot it if it broke.
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Debra
Super Nomad
Posts: 2101
Registered: 10-31-2002
Location: Port Orchard Wa./Bahia de Los Angeles BC
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You "old dudes", well, Mike H.,,,,,, really cause me envy  I talked to
"Mrs H" (phone) this morning and she tells a story of also enjoying (and hating) the "
old road".....'MA" I would love (and I'm sure others here would also) if you would share a trip report....come on! I did it.......!
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dbrooks
Junior Nomad
Posts: 60
Registered: 1-7-2004
Location: San Diego
Member Is Offline
Mood: The shock treat
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| Quote: | Originally posted by fishinrich
In a few days I will be driving up and down the pacific side for a month. |
Please stop telling us this - we are DYING here!
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Baja Bernie
`Normal` Nomad Correspondent
Posts: 2962
Registered: 8-31-2003
Location: Sunset Beach
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Mood: Just dancing through life
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Mike this says it all.
"When we left that lonely rancher and his family, I knew I was personally hooked. There was something about the warmth, honor and dignity that I had
experienced there for the first time. It?s grown in me since that moment."
Those of us who were lucky got to experience this feeling.
Thanks, Mike
My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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