It was on US 10 west of Indio that CB radio contact was finally
established with Larry Tidball and Barbee Hoffmann. "Hola! Scot Jamison y Bill
Oliver están aqui - comprende?" [I have translated the rest of the story
into English. You want the unexpurgated Spanish version? Send me a sase with
$50!] All right! We're getting serious now. Insurance was purchased for the two
cars in Calexico, and about 11 pm Wed. we crossed into Mexicali. After an
inadvertent diversion east on Mex 2, we zoomed south on Mex 5, then west on Mex
3, pulling over for the night about 1:30 am. Upon awakening, we were sorely
perplexed as to the significance of the long line of short, 3-4-foot-diameter
rock piles found along the road. Other than Larry about a dozen years ago
having approached the canyon entrance (rf. Desert Sag. 1/91, #211), none of us
had been near our southern-most DPS-Listed peak. For all those years Larry had
been carrying his carefully crafted preliminary map for the trailhead. Back and
forth he drove now. Back and forth - taking careful note of every discarded
tire, stick and post. With Barbie's help, the final version would be truly
magnifico [awesome). The Rancho (Santa Clara) was rather inelaborate - we first
drove past it without stopping. The solitary jefe [boss] was content to accept
$10 from us - no questions asked. [Note: our trailhead is farther north, and on
a separate road, than the one at Cañon Diabilito cited in the DPS Peak
Guide.) We started off down the ducked trail at 10 am in slightly breezy but
pleasant weather. The (in)famous pair of cables was soon at hand, which
dispelled any possible lingering doubt as to the correctness of our canyon. We
hauled our packs across separately here rather than risk too much weight on the
webbing which attached the cables to the two hangers (a pulley would be
useful). Having skillfully overcome the fiendish entrance guardian, the canyon
was now ours - far out! The subsequent first part of the gorge is
comparatively wide with slow gain upstream. About 1-1/2 hours in, we were
surprised to spot four hunters moving rapidly up-canyon in our direction. We
were soon also surprised to note that they were attired like militia and were
advancing with large automatic weapons in hand. The solution was evidente
[obvious): Barbee would distract/charm them long enough for the rest of us to
bravely escape and go for help. Somehow, she failed to perceive this as the
ideal solution - and the encounter was at hand. I fired the first salvo with a
disarming. Buenos dies, Señores. This evidently had the desired soothing
effect as they quickly perceived that we intended no harm to them. We got the
notion across |
that we were just climbers and were not involved in hunting, which is
forbidden in the national park, nor in drugs- and then we took a hike. How they
were alerted to our presence remains a mystery. [Perhaps our CB radio use
somehow attracted them.) As we had made good progress, and in view of the
short day, we established campo numero uno at 3:30 against the west wall in a
broad stretch of the canyon at about the 1000-m (3300-ft) level. It was clear
and calm. Having assured Barbee that we had just been kidding earlier, we
eagerly set about readying for our Thanksgiving feast. Beside a blithe, warm
campfire in a majestic, cool setting, four thankful souls irreverently stuffed
themselves with Barbie's diligently prepared and orchestrated fete: appetizers,
wine, mashed potatoes, roast turkey and gravy and cranberry sauce, dressing
with apples, more wine, veggies, etc.. all set to candles and appropriately
decorated plates and napkins. Later, already past full, Barbee then sprang the
pecan and apple pies on us. It was agreed by all that, no matter whet might
later ensue our expedition was already a great success - and we christened the
campsite forevermore as Campo Turkey. Way to go, Barbee! Friday we broke
camp about 6:45 and headed up canyon in good if somewhat cool weather. This
late in the year, we were mostly in shade. Cat's Claw regularly savaged any who
failed to give it a wide berth. At one point the stream banks narrowed to zero
at a small waterfall. I suppose that in warmer conditions one simply wades
through it. However, we traversed directly across an inset ledge poised high up
the steep left wall. This was a little awkward with our packs but a rope was
not needed. We reached Campo Noche at 2:30, such arrival being aided by large
rock cairns near the stream. (There were no orange-colored markings.) A CMC
outing lad by Dale Van Dalsem arrived from the west side a couple of hours
later, and they camped below us. The early evening was not suitable for a
campfire due to then breezy [Mach 1.3) conditions. The crystal flakes began
their quiet, lazy (and uninvited) descent into our camp about 1:30 am. By the
time of our 4:30 wakeup, however, the dark scene was fully blanketed up to an
inch. Ratas! [Rats!] We were now unexpectedly confronted by una sierra nevada
[a snowy range). Our game plan for the day required that we climb the N and S
summits, break camp and pack part way out. With fresh snow our progress higher
up would be significantly less than required. Had we the whole day to invest in
the effort, we would have attempted the climb. A small group of Europeans was
going for it as we departed back north at 8 am. The CMC group had headed home
earlier. |
By
10:30 we had gradually left the white-washed wintry wonderland behind us, and
at noon we were back at the narrow little waterfall. I was able to manage the
high exposed traverse, partly crawling on hands and knees, but it was very
awkward and I cautioned the others thus. They vainly tried to skirt the falls
by climbing high around it on either side back upstream. Eventually, they
accepted the chilling, inevitable alternative, however, and scantily waded
through it, while I shot photos and offered warm encouragement. We set up camp
about 3:15 in a primo (primo] narrow part of the canyon with a small cave Campo
Cuevita. It was calm, we were calm, and the little fire quietly blazed as we
happy-houred on fresh popcorn, salmon fillet, cool beer and warm
camaraderie. Sunday we ware off at 7:30 and reached the cables a little past
noon. Although anchored, both of them were lying on the downstream side and
unreachable. Eventually one of us succeeded in frictioning up the steep,
slick rock to reclaim the lines, and the way was clear. {A cable should be left
in place for each direction.) Just below the cables, Scot went into a fit of
unrestrained ecstasy, having reclaimed our undisturbed beer cache. It doesn't
take a whole lot to keep Scot happy. A short ways out of the canyon we stopped
at a sunny pristine pool so that I could Ice my knee, which I had bumped the
day before. Having stripped for this action, I was soon beset upon by three
other naked, frenzied bodies and we all reached the cars exceedingly clean in
body and spirit. The route in general was often ducked, and we all had a
hand/foot in leading- the second or third person usually taking over when the
lead lost it. The one-way distance /gain to Campo Noche is about 14 mi./4500
feet. Warning: the border crossing at Mexicali going N is a different road than
when entering S - keep a lookout for border signs. Special thanks to Graham
Breakwell for his trusty cañon insights. We were also aided by the John
Robinson book [Camping and Climbing in Baja, 19831 and the Jerry Schad topo
[Parque Nacional San Pedro Martir, 1988]. Our Cañon del Diablo
reconnaissance had been a great success - for this, and more, we had much to be
thankful. But, Devil beware - someday we'll be back! |