past waterfalls and beckoning side trips to reach Campo Noche. Here we met a dejected group from another climbing party. They had failed twice on two successive days to reach the top of Big Picacho. They wished us well and began the long trek back. We made camp and the following morning followed Jerry Schad up the "Slot Wash/Wall Street" route. We had decided to spend the night on the peak summit, so we backpacked sleeping bag, food and water plus extra clothing. Near the top, Jerry scouted a moderate "squeeze chimney," and threw down a rope to haul up backpacks. He alerted us to the territorial presence of angry bees. A New Englander immediately tore into his backpack to remove a small kit. He was allergic to bee stings...a physician was with us, and together they made a hasty retreat to make a lengthy detour to the top. Upon our companions safely clearing the area, we decided to "go for it!" Long sleeve shirts were buttoned and collars turned up. Hats were smashed tightly down, and gloves pulled on. We took a collective deep breath and in a quick moving file entered the chimney and began "stemming" up against the walls. We almost made it...we were attacked by a gathering swarm of winged vengence. The file faltered, but with great shouts of exhortation mingled with yelps of pain, made some classic moves to clear the chimney and break for the summit. I spent my 51st birthday up there. What a present! The next morning we returned to Campo Noche, while the other team went for the top and returned late that night. Each team exchanged car keys and continued canyon exploration without having to backtrack. The trip out was done with stops to swim, sliding down slick water chutes to reach the pools. The trip over, we drove to Ensenada to meet the other team, and drove home in our own cars. Two years later, Jerry Schad was kind enough to write and inform me my picture on Big Picacho appeared in the Spring, 1989, issue of "Baja" magazine. Sure enough, there I am in my best "Rocky III" victory mode. Both arms thrust skyward, face puffy from stings, arms bloody from catciaw, and dressed in sweat stained and torn clothing...I LOVED it!

Big Picacho April 14-22, 1990 [a private enterprise]

Suzanne and Tanya needed it, Jay Holshuh and Sue Leverton needed it, and Bruce Turner needed it! So, Terry Turner and I consented to lead these novices up Diablo Canyon to claim the coveted summit of Picacho De Diablo. Saturday morning we met at Crucero La Trinidad, junction of Baja 3 and 5, about 85 miles south of Mexicali. Heading west on 3 we followed the dirt roads on the AAA Baja map past Rancho Santa Clara to shack at road's end. Finding the end of the road 'unsafe' for our vehicles and Rancho Santa Clara too far away (some Baja explorers advise on leaving cars at the pay parking lots of Rancho Santa Clara for protection), we backtracked about a mile and headed north on a spur road and then into the desert where we 'hid' our vehicles. Six packs of beer were strategically placed around the vehicles as a peace offering to ward off evil spirits during our absence (or, to make their task merrier if they, nevertheless, chose to exorcise our trucks of their contents). With all requisite rites performed, we headed north across the short stretch of desert to The Canyon.

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