Solo and First-time Baja Norte Trip - Part 2B

Intro: http://forums.bajanomad.com/viewthread.php?tid=25757
Part 1: http://forums.bajanomad.com/viewthread.php?tid=25799
Part 2A: http://forums.bajanomad.com/viewthread.php?tid=25839
Part 3: http://forums.bajanomad.com/viewthread.php?tid=26053
Part 4: http://forums.bajanomad.com/viewthread.php?tid=26055


In Search of Shell Island - Take 2

After savoring the sunrise, I head back out of the trail to continue my search for Shell Island.

Destination: Bahia Sta Maria (BSM). As I drive toward the highway I spot Marco's trailer (I see his

truck) and I stop. But I guess he's still in bed. So I pull out 3 bottles of Pacifico and place

them on Marco's truck's driver's seat before I drive off. On the highway I pass by another trail (unmarked)

leading to the beach but I've already made up my mind on Bahia Sta Maria. (It turns out later that

is Km26, the entrance to Shell Island).



There are lots of new luxurious-looking houses at BSM. To the left are gringo houses and to the

right are Mexican houses (it turns out). But there is no likeness of Shell Island from here. I

drive along the houses both sides and finally stop at the last Gringo house, which is vacant. I

look at the sand and I could actually drive to the beach from here. But can I? There are signs

everywhere saying "private access". Not wanting to tresspass, I back off to the third house from

the last, where a retired (since 1990 he says) gringo and his son are working on their cars. I

engage them in a conversation and announce my search for Shell Beach. He says I could take the

beach but won't be able to go camping at Shell Beach that way. You see those campers yonder north,

he points, that's Shell Beach. There's a trail before that hill nearby, he says as he points to the

west and waves his hand northward as he gives me directions to get to Shell Beach. And then he

gives that fateful warning: be careful. The son concurs: I've lost a jeep there, he says, whatever

that means.


Before I leave them, I ask if I could air down in front of their house and he says OK. I air down

to 25psi (from 50) and as I crawl on my back under the RV I find that the anti-fishtail transverse

trackbar had fallen off the welding joint at the frame. The bar had hit and rested on the brake

line, dented it, but I see no leak. I grab two adjustable wrenches in order to remove the track bar

from its attachment at the rear differential.


Floating on sand for miles before you know you're stuck


The BSM-to-ShellBeach trail is no doubt soft sand, but with visible tire tracks. It is crossed by

other trails or it branches to the left or to the right.This requires decision-making: which way is

the right way to Shell Beach? After floating on sand for more than a mile, I instinctively stop

because the trail forks to the left and right, and I'm not sure which one to take. This spells my

being stuck here. Although I arrive at a decision on which trail to take, it's too late, my rear

tires dig in when I try, I'm stuck here (GPS coordinates: N30 44 51.6 W114 42 39.5). It's 11:00AM.



I get off the RV and assess the situation. This is gonna take a lot of effort and time to get out of, I

surmise, so whatever I do now is not in a hurry. So I do nothing but think, try to relax and think

more. I get my dog out and tie him on the shady side of the RV; I give him a drink. Next, I air

down the tires to 20, shovel sand in front of the tires and try to get out a few times. No can do.

It's getting deeper. Well, as I thought so, it's not gonna be easy.


The weather is not too hot today as it is on the windy side. So I grab my sombrero and take my dog

for a long walk (at 12:00noon!!!) to survey the area. I find out that where I'm stuck is just as

good or bad as a mile back and ahead. That's not encouraging.


Back to the RV, I try to take a nap, may as well, the sun is on both sides of the RV. I'll try to

figure this out again later, I say. However, different scenarios start playing in my mind. What if

I can't get out on my own? Those gringo houses are probably only 400 yards away and I could walk

across the low tide to ask for help. I could hear cars/truck driving along the highway (it's only

half a mile away); I could probably walk to the highway and flag a vehicle down. At high tide I

could take my bucket and get water to harden the sand, as I think I'm less than 100 yards away from

the waterline. I have many options. I could take my ax and start making sand ladders made of small

tree trunks woven with polyester lashing straps which I have plenty of. How could I use the winch

to get me out of the rut? And there's that satellite phone to use to call for help to come. Or, at the

extreme end of the spectrum, I may have to succumb to the premise: Don't go to Baja with anything

you can't afford to lose. If I couldn't get the RV out of here within my vacation timeframe, I could

walk out of here and leave the RV behind for broke (total loss) and get back to my job in California.


Photo: To the East


Photo: To the North


I wish I have sand ladders

Then my cell phone rings (not the satellite phone) but no connection is made. I see ATT Telcel GSM

on my cell phone and realize I don't need satellite phone in this part of Baja. I call my son and

ask him if he called (all Telcel calls say private) and we talk. I explain him the situation but I

keep a very positive tone so as not to get him worried (or he'll call his mom who will then get

crazy). I tell him I'll figure it out but let's talk about contingencies. Like getting sand

rails/ladders from San Felipe and other options. So we decide to post a topic in BajaNomad forum

asking where to get Sand Ladders. Without a doubt, an hour later we got responses from San Diego,

New Mexico, etc. The closest we got was someone saying Chavos in San Felipe may have them. Very

good. I also got a call from BajaLou and Bajawarrior who gave encouragement and very useful

suggestions. That's not enough; air down lower. Later in the afternoon, I air down to 15psi, shovel

in front of the tires and try again. Still no can do; the differential is now plowing the sand. The

only way out now it to jack up the RV.


Hmmm, we're definitely sleeping here tonight, I tell my dog Uzi, as I pull his leash for a walk

toward the waterline for a stroll. (Actually at high-tide during this time of the month, the water

fills up only one-third between the gringo houses and what I call waterline next to my RV. See

photos).


Photo: Last Gringo House / High-tide waterline

The sun is already high as I wake up; I slept real well. I want to take advantage of the shade in

one side of the RV and of the cool air while I jack up the RV, because it requires a lot of digging

under the frame to be able to place the block of wood and the jack. I'm not in a hurry because it's

already hot and I'm not going to dig the other side where the sun is shining. This time, I will do

it right, bring the rear tires on normal ground level and then some. It will just roll out of

there, I bet. I also decide to unload the RV of any heavy load (see photos: spare tire carrier and

tires, tools, welder, Pacificos, etc) before jacking because previously the jack had difficulty

lifting the loaded RV, and besides the wooden block had halfway split. I put straps around the

wooden block and ratchet them tight. Then I start digging. After an hour and three cycles of

jacking, the rear tires under one side of the RV are higher than level ground. It's time to rest; I

stay in the RV as the weather had gone full summer. My dog had found a cool place under the front

of the RV.



Photo: Unloaded







It's noontime and I'm bored; I get out of the RV and contemplate to finish the job. I notice that

the RV back door would not close because of the twisting effect of one side being much

higher/lower. Immediately, I decide to lift the other side, at high-noon, so that perhaps no ill

effects will result. In no time the RV is level, supported only by the jack on one side, not the

ground. I'll finish it up when it's cooler, I say, and I go back inside the RV for cold drinks and

a nap.


It's 5:00PM and it's time to get out of here. Soon I finish the job; all 4 rear tires are now on

solid ground, and a bit higher than normal ground level. I take out the 30-inch by 6-ft long area

rug where the dog lays in the middle of the RV and tuck it under the rear right tires. The RV

storage comparments have loose plywood floorboards; I take one of them out and tuck it under the

rear left tires. I draw a line where I want the tires to roll over when I backup, slightly turning,

so that the front tires will not get snagged by the rug or by the plywood, in preparation for a

2-point turn. I make sure the road where the tires will roll over are flattened and if possible

packed. For added insurance, I air down all tires to 12psi (from 15).


I make sure the ARB air supply is above 90psi. I shift to neutral, engage the locker. I shift to

4LO. Talking to myself now: reverse, and start slowly and don't slow down until fully backed up.

And don't step on the brakes hard if you ever have to, to stop. In a pleasant deja vu, even before

placing my foot on the accelerator pedal, the RV rolls back on its own, and I follow up with a

gentle push of the gas pedal. Brake gently, Forward. With little effort the RV moves forward in

position for getting the hell out of here. But stop; the Pacificos and etc. are back there.
I load up everything and I'm on my way out of here.


While unloading earlier during the day, I realized that I had left my two adjustable wrenches in

front of the retired Gringo's house in BSM. I decide to pick them up. As I stop in front of the

house, the son comes to me and hands me the wrenches. I get off the RV and we have a brief conversation.

I tell him how tough a trail it was and that I spent the night there stuck (Sometimes I had

suspected they set me up to take that trail, knowing that there is a more convenient entrance from

the highway).


Because it's getting late, I decide to see my friend Marco (the Mexican stranger I met 2 days

earlier) 10 km up north and spend the night next to his trailer, in a ranch that turns out to be

California Adventures Ranch.


Marco and his dog Canelo


As soon as Marco spots my RV he comes out of his trailer with 3 empty bottles of Pacifico and tries

to hand them to me. What is it? I ask him. These are yours, he says, they're worth money. No no no,

I retort, sell them and keep the money. I have more here. Let's get drunk tonight. May I park and

spend the night here? I don't want to drive in the highway at night, I add. I am Artemio but no

habla espanol, introducing myself. I tell him how happy I am to meet someone here who speaks

perfect English.


No problem, Marco says, as long as I am the caretaker here, you can come anytime you want.


Let me give my dog a drink then I'll bring out the Pacificos, I excused myself to park the RV

properly and bring my dog out,and feed him.


Marco brings out two folding picnic chairs and we start to gulp our cervezas. We chat, share life

stories, his and mine, his job and mine. He mentions he's driving to San Felipe the next day to

cash his paycheck and get some supplies. I'll drive you to San Felipe, I volunteered, I'd like to

get some ice. Are you sure? Marco says. I'm sure, I insist, let's go buy some fish and seafood too.


The serenity of the night is only broken by Canelo, his dog for a few months. Canelo is a puppy

and likes to playfully bite Marco's fingers, at which time Marco would shout at him to behave (I

forget the spanish of it). The stars as I've previously observed are again so bright and "very

near". After three bottles, Marco declares that's all he can drink and I can sense that he's tired

and he's trying to say we should go to bed. So I interject let's go to bed and we'll talk again

manana. Marco climbs up the roof of the palapa/carport (yes, he sleeps ON the roof) makes his bed

and sleeps.


Photo: Morning at Marco's


The night was very short. It's only 5:30AM but if feels like a California 7:30 morning. Marco gets

up and offers to prepare coffee. OK, gracias, I say. Let me take my dog for a brief walk first.


Coffee is ready as we get back from our walk. Actually it's Canela tea, and to make coffee you add

a little bit of coffee. Marco shows me the canela and explains how Canelo, his puppy, got his name.

Canela is tan looking root or something like that.


Before we leave for San Felipe, there's a couple of things we need to do. I need to air up my

tires, And I want to re-fill my water tank (for washing and taking a shower). The ranch has 300m

deep well where they get water. The ranch currently has two houses built (the ranch owners' houses)

and this well supplies their washing water. The houses are also well equipped with 4wd trucks, and

other high-quality equipment, one of which is an air compressor. Although, I have my own

compressor, Marco offers to air up there and I take the offer.


While airing up my tires, Canelo gets too playful. He takes away the rug I use under the RV.

He steals my sandals. Etc. Marco then asks me, how do you make him behave? Do you

hit him? No, no, never hit a dog, I contest. Do you want me to show you? I ask.

Then as Canelo grabs a towel, I say NO and grab Canelo's neck and pin the puppy

to the ground such that his back is now against the ground. NO, I firmly say to the puppy.

A few second later, I release him. Canelo crawls beside Marco, lays down beside him

and keeps quiet and still like a saint, only his eyeball moving. That's how a mother dog

disciplines her puppies, I explain to Marco.






In San Felipe, first we cash Marco's check and I exchange dollars for pesos. Then we eat breakfast

at a street-side restaurant - $3 each. Then we go to a grocery store north of town. On the way

back, we stop by the marina to buy fish or seafood. Being a new moon, we're told, no fish today,

but they have haivas (crabs). So we buy crabs; $40 for 6 crabs.


Lunchtime is when Marco shows off his culinary skills back in his trailer. He cooks and prepares

the crabs. I must say, he cooks just as well as my wife. While having lunch, we agree to go look

for Shell Island later in the day.


In Search of Shell Island - Take 3


It's 6:00PM and we decide to go looking for Shell Island, again. After airing down the tires we

head out to the highway. There is only one other trail (shown in my GPS map) between here and Bahia

Sta Maria that I haven't taken so far, so we plan to take that trail. This is the KM26 entrance

that has no signage.


The trail looks harmless until we go deeper where we are faced with the choice between a muddy

looking trail on the left hand side (straight to the sea) and a soft sand trail to the right

(south). First I choose the left and drive over a low tide bed of sand and hard/dry mud(?) until I

stop and wonder where it leads to. I'm now about to cross a creek and drive through about 50 feet

of mud. To the left is a concrete platform about 15 X 12 ft and 4.5 feet high. It couldn't be a dam

or a bridge; what is this doing here in the middle of nowhere? Marco and I check out the creek and

we decide it's not a good idea to cross, considering it's late in the afternoon. What if we find

ourselves stuck in the dark, and high-tide comes?



Shell Beach1: N30 46 33.0 W114 42 08.8


I found Shell Beach


I turn around and take the trail branching south. Let's go to that fishing shack, I tell Marco.

There's a pickup truck next to it, too. At about 500 yards into the trail the sand get looser and

we're stuck, just 100 yards away from the shack. We're also about 100 yards from the water to the

left.


Shell Beach2: N30 46 21.2 W114 42 05.4

Marco and I get off the RV. He starts shoveling. I start airing down the tires lower. We grab some

of the traction "devices" left lying out there (yes, it looks like stuck heaven here) and stick

them under the tires. After several attempts we're able to reverse over the 100 feet of really

loose sand and turn around. Before we leave I take a few pictures and look around. From the

pictures of Shell Island I've seen posted in the Internet, this place looks familiar. At last, I

found Shell Beach! It's 8:18PM, let's go "home"; we head back to the ranch and enjoy the Pacificos

waiting for us in my ice chest inside the RV.




[Edited on 8-3-2007 by edm1]