Pat & Sharon O'Toole

Heather with Ratoncito

Bule and Rick saddling Alissana

Our daughter and son (and their families) would be doing most of the work in our absence, and they urged us to go. All summer we shared our plans with, actually, almost anyone who would listen to us. A number of people asked us if we were worried about the narcotraficantes who are disrupting Mexico. I had to admit to some concern, having just read “God’s Middle Finger” about a gringo’s travels in the central Mexican mountains. Rick had recently visited Sonora, where he said he had stumbled into an abandoned drug encampment, and he assured us that it is perfectly safe. With that reassurance, we said sure. I added “Travels with a Baja Burro” to my reading list.

Of course as the date approached, we found ourselves buried under more and more work and responsibility. We have been working for seven or so years to place conservation easements on our mountain ranchlands. It was really looking like the closing date would likely be set for the time we were to be gone. The closing date was iffy, however and our daughter Meghan told us, “Go, before your heads explode!” We signed multiple powers of attorney to Meghan, (Rick’s comment: “Good choice”) and boarded the plane.

We met up with Rick and Heather at LAX in Los Angeles. Since there are only two weekly flights to Loreto, our destination, Rick pointed out that four of the other gringos who were planning to mule trek had to be on our flight (two others were ex-pats who winter in the Baja). “See if you can pick them out,” he challenged me. One of the items on our equipment list was “brimmed hat” so I looked around, and sure enough, there were some folks wearing brimmed hats.

I approached them and said, “Are you with ‘Saddling South’?” They allowed as how they were and soon we were exchanging our bona fides. They were great people, which was fortunate, since we were about to spend eight days and six nights with them.

In Loreto, we met up with our outfitter, Trudi Angell—an American who has been guiding tourists in her “Paddling South,” (kayaking), “Peddling South,” (bicycling) and “Saddling South” (mule trekking) business for over 20 years. She is a well-known and popular person in Loreto and other parts of Baja. Her business brings employment of one sort or the other to many local people, and it was clear that her personal friendships with Mexican families is key to her successful business and to helping bring outside income into the community.

Pat and I are experience riders, but our time with mules is limited. Rick and Heather have mules, which they frequently use for riding and packing. The other six gringos were not riders, but were experienced outdoors recreationists, and were game for the trip.

Our guides were four Mexican cowboys who work with Trudi. Chema is her right hand. Our lead guide was Bule, 73 years old, and the packers were Che and his son, Jorge. They tended and saddled and unsaddled the mules and made sure the cinches were tight whenever we approached a steep ascent or descent, which was several times a day. We were fifteen riders, 18 mules and two burros.

We set out west from a ranch near Mission San Javier, one of the early Spanish missions in the area. As we approached our first climb up a really rocky ascent to a mesa, I was astonished that the mules were expected to climb what looked to me like a vertical rock face.

Baja California is a long peninsula on Mexico’s west coast. Its coastlines are famous for kayaking, sport fishing, whale watching and water sports such as snorkeling. Its rugged dry interior is largely uninhabited and mostly wild country. I live in Wyoming, where I am used to wide open spaces with little interaction with people. In the Sierra Gigante mountain range, where we rode, we never encountered another human being, aside from the ranches we were visiting with Trudi. We also didn’t see an electric line, roads (except close to the coast) or even jet contrails overhead. Cell phones didn’t work and we learned that the radio tower that some of the ranches depended upon had been taken out by the recent hurricane. We were truly in another world.

Trudi's dog Lucky, with Trudi

Greg, Trudi, Steve, Claudia & Karen
Pila (water reservoir) near Mission San Javier

Fighting roosters readying for the festival at San Javier

Heather, Pat, Rick and Tom
first morning at dry camp

Cattle grazing free range
(the only ones we saw)

Che and Jorge packing the mules

Memo, Luis, Dora, Chuy, Dario, Luis Carlos, Sipriana
Our hosts at El Jarillal

Sipriana's outdoor kitchen

Altar in Sipriana's home

Chema playing the guitar

Dario showing his horsehair braiding to Trudi and Rick

Most of us

leaving El Jarillal

Greg encountered the local vegetation

Tom with pack burro
Chema made the sawbuck

Descending into San Andres

Jesus, rancher at San Andres
He has two dogs named Chama

Silvestre welcoming Trudi (and us) to Los Pilares

Silvestre leads us through hurricane damage to the lower ranch

Hurricane damage

sunrise at Los Pilares

Ancient petroglyphs near Los Pilares

Mule reflections

Pat napping

Day's end

Las Palmieres

Andrea, Western cowgirl

Karen at rock corrals
Rancho Viejo

Vineyard at Santa Isabel

Traditional water jug
Rancho El Horno

Pilar's granddaughter
Rancho El Horno

Sierra Gigantes

Lucky, Che and Trudi in Trudi's office

Mule at sunset
photos by Pat and Sharon O'Toole