| On-on up the mountain,
through Night Wash, Slot Wash and eventually Wall Street. What seemed
never-ending finally reached its conclusion on the summit around 2pm,
overlooking the gulf and the San Pedro Martir mountains. We spent only a short
time on the summit before turning around and heading back down. The descent was
somewhat faster than the ascent. With aching knees and strained muscles, the
last of the group arrived back at Campo Noche just after sunset. After a night's rest, with only one or two visits from our ring-tailed friend, we were up at dawn and off again, climbing out of the canyon around 7:30am. Back over the boulders and rocks, crawling over logs, wading through manzanita, oaks and stinging nettles - a few more vegetable belays. At one point, as we peacefully ambled along all hell broke loose, as we stepped over a hive of pissed-off bees, which decided to pursue me! All I could think was "oh, s---! African Bees!" Bees were stinging me everywhere. Having out-distanced the bees, we stopped and Bobcat had to pick one out of my hair. On-on again. Slow but steady to the top. The packs seemed to feel heavier than they did on the first day. Finally, we made it to Blue Bottle Saddle where we had lunch and relaxed in the warm sun. From there, we followed a ducked drainage back across the plateau, where we ran into a NOLS group on a 90 day Baja survival outing. They were as surprised to see us as we were to see them. |
We arrived back at the
cars at 4:30. Somewhere a long the trail, Scot and Bobcat had the brilliant
idea of going to Ensenada for dinner and some margaritas. Unable to convince
Roy, George & Ron to drive another five hours on dirt roads and narrow Baja
highways after dark, we said good-bye. With Scot "Mr. Baja" Jamison at the
wheel, we drove to Estero Beach Resort just south of Ensenada. Though the
restaurant was closed for "La fumagacion de cucarachas," we were served dinner
and margaritas in the bar over-looking the moonlit ocean and the white-capped
breakers rolling into the bay. Next day, back to the McCosker's in San Diego
and eventually home. My first experience climbing in Mexico eight years ago (Cerro Pescadores and Pico Risco) was overshadowed by our subsequent "ambush" by the gun-toting soldiers of the Mexican Army during our exit of Pescadores. Having thirty or more rifles pointed at you, while being accused of drug-running and gun-smuggling can be a rather disconcerting experience. Since that time, I dreaded returning to Baja. This trip to El Picacho... this marathon event... perhaps changed my mind somewhat about Baja for the better. The peak was a big grunt, but to get there we passed by some of the most beautiful beaches in the west - the way California must have looked once, a long time ago. Thanks to Ron, George, Roy, Bobcat and Scot for a wonderful trip. - Wynne Benti Zdon |