Maria insisted we take a pile...
Maria insisted we take a pile of homemade tortillas with us for the road.
Though it was not really a surprise, the warm hospitality offered visitors like us was rewarding. Imagine no TV, no Internet, no light (maybe a 12-volt bulb hanging in the kitchen), no phone. The VHF radio, relatively new, is listened to by all, so there are no private conversations. Cooking is on wood stoves or fireplaces. The outhouse has a bucket of water to flush. The shower is a bucket job, too. Clothes washing is done on a traditional slab of stone using homemade soap.
As Spartan a lifestyle as The Turtle Expedition adapts to on the road, most of that seemed pretty normal to us, but there was still much to learn. We could always turn The Turtle V around and drive back to the modern world. For these folks, it was a 24/7/365 deal. They had skills and knowledge long forgotten by the 8-to-5 work crowd.
Kitchens, both indoor and...
Kitchens, both indoor and outdoor, were basic, clean, and functional.
Looking for a place to stop for lunch, we pulled up under a tree at Rancho Injerto. With only two or three vehicles passing in a day, we were an oddity for sure. Juan waved to us and we asked if he minded that we borrowed a little shade. Of course not, and please come in for some coffee. It was a pattern we would come to expect.
Juan and his wife, Maria, and daughter, Daniela, herded goats and made fresh cheese. We spent the next day and a half watching and learning about cheese making and their lives. Milking is done once a day, and of course, Monika had to try her hand. In the evening, after a simple dinner, Juan proudly showed us the skin of a mountain lion that had taken a few of his goats. He and his dog had treed the cat, and, lacking a gun at the moment, he stoned it to death.
Around 10:00 in the evening, a pickup full of scraggly dudes sputtered up in front of the house. They were returning from town, and were as happy as you might expect after a few six-packs of Tecate. Maybe these guys were bandits. They looked the part. No such luck. Juan knew them. Everyone knows everyone in these mountains, and no one comes here accidentally.
Only a day old, this cute...
Only a day old, this cute baby was abandoned by its mother and had to be hand fed.
They wanted to borrow a screwdriver and a flashlight. I grabbed our LED light and watched with respect as one guy completely disassembled the carburetor, cleaned the float bowl with his shirt tail, blew the needle jets out, and reassembled the thing like it was something he had done a hundred times.
There was some improvement, and after locking his hubs, they rattled up the road into the darkness. I wondered what times will bring when all these trucks are controlled by black boxes and sophisticated fuel injection systems like our Power Stroke. It might be hard to work on a PCM on the side of the road.
Thatched roofs and adobe walls...
Thatched roofs and adobe walls were the norm.
After the morning milking was done, we left with a pile of fresh handmade tortillas and a kilo of cheese. Four-wheel-drive Toyotas and Ford Rangers are the choice of locals. Juan warned us that our F-550 might be too big for the track up the San Raymundo wash past La Presa. We stayed to the right.
Road signs were few and far between, but we sort of knew where we were going. We climbed in and out of steep canyons, sometimes requiring low-range. By evening we had reached the abandoned site of the Guadalupe Mission. Established by the Jesuit Everardo Helen in 1720, by 1795 the Cochimí Indians had dwindled under the onslaught of Old World diseases, and the mission was abandoned. All that was left were old rock walls and corrals. Nearby, neglected fruit trees were heavy with huge lemons. We could have heard a pin drop at night, so total was the silence. A small adobe chapel, its walls already crumbling, had been built by a few locals. Perhaps a traveling padre stops by from time to time for a wedding or a baptism. Still no sign of bandits.
In the morning we continued into the Sierra Gigante. We had been cautioned to keep a watchful eye climbing over the steep Pie de la Cuesta. This narrow one-lane section over an intimidating pass had few turnouts. What a great place to ambush a lonely traveler. Alas, not even another vehicle passed us all day.