Boots Across the Baja

3. Camp Pelican

This is the third of a seven-part series about a December 1982 trek across the Baja—enjoy! Will post Part 4 tomorrow. Part 1 is here. —Ken

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Waking up at our beach camp—let’s call it Camp Pelican—in San Felipe, we repacked and wandered about town in search of cheese, bread, pancake mix, cookies, fruit, pasta, rice, sauces for meals, instant oatmeal and the like. We packed seven days’ worth, expecting to complete the entire desert-mountain crossing in less than a week. There would be water in the mountains and wood for cooking, so we did not carry a camp stove nor the extra burden of liquid fuel.

We asked around about the old road to Rancho Santa Clara. A half-dozen denizens pointed us in a half-dozen directions. A local police officer looked at us strangely when we explained our intentions, then raised an arm and sighted down his finger.

“Allí," he said. “A la derecha.” He told us where to turn. “Muy lejos." Far away.

“Si señor. Somos alpinistas.”

We explained that we were experienced mountaineers and that we were well prepared—not to worry. By the lift in his eyebrows, I think we provided the day’s entertainment for the young officer.