Boots Across the Baja

7. Done With the Devil and a Ho-ho-ho!

This is the final part of a seven-part series about a December 1982 trek across the Baja—enjoy! Part 1 is here. —Ken

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It was too cold to stop walking and too cold to camp at 8,000 feet. Our sleeping bags were slightly damp from the night before, the fresh snow having leaked into our bags while we slept. We kept walking the road into the night, gradually descending and presuming that we would eventually reach some kind of park shelter, or at least lower ground and less frigid temperatures. The road did not agree, however, and began to lead us up and over a pass. Hours passed and the walking seemed endless, my ankle back to swollen and throbbing.

Sometime in the wee hours we arrived at a collection of small buildings, the apparent park headquarters, though closed for the winter. We poked around, looking in windows with our headlamps, and found a one-room cabin with a bunk and wool blankets. We carefully removed the window with an ice axe, crawled in and shared the skinny bed for the duration of the night. Neither of us bothered removing our jackets, hats or gloves. Compared to the previous two nights, we’d scored a deluxe accommodation.

We awoke mid-morning to find a machete under the pillow, glad we hadn’t disturbed its rightful (or frightful) owner in the dark. We hung our sleeping bags on a clothesline. For breakfast, Dennis spotted a frozen can of soup on a shelf and thawed it over a small fire. We had a cupful of pancake mix and some honey left, but our stores were otherwise exhausted. We tidied up the cabin and blankets, replaced the window and were soon on our way.

Happily, the road led downward this time, down and down and out of the snow. Then down some more and out of the forest. When we rounded a bend with a fabulous view of the western foothills and desert country below, the rest we knew would be a splendid, welcome stroll, notwithstanding the ankle thing. By now, the throbbing was paired with the sting of an ugly blister. The air warmed rapidly and we soon stripped down to T-shirts. Dennis trotted ahead, leaving me limping along and catching up later.