A Finger of Land on an Old Man’s Hand

Earl Vincent de Berge

Description

Four young adventurers test themselves in the summer desert wilderness of Mexico’s “Forgotten Peninsula,” discovering nature, danger, and the humanity and resourcefulness of frontier families.
Chronicles in words and photographs the 1962-64 adventures of young men inspired by naturalist Joseph Wood Krutch’s book, “The Forgotten Peninsula,” about Baja California (1961). Then a sparsely populated raw wilderness, Baja proved a formidable challenge to men and equipment within its mountainous, sometimes lush, sometimes barren, desert environments, spectacular geology and complex ecologies bracketed by oceans. They enjoyed encounters with wild animals; found bountiful places to hunt and fish; met frontier families of the kindest sort; experienced Pacific storms, and love in a frontier village; met gold prospectors, hermits and one-of-a-kind characters. They encountered brigands and fools; had life-threatening events; found gold nuggets and rescued lost team members. Plant photography was among the author’s interests, only partially foiled by wind-blown sand fouling his camera lens. Most important, they learned about themselves and their relations with nature and God -- finding their own answers or clarifying what they hoped to better understand. Major contributions to this book were provided by Earl’s life-long friend Mark Winheld.

Sujets

• Adventurers
• Adventure (Guyana)
• México
• Biography
• Sonoran Desert
• Fishing
• Adventure
• Mexico
• Autobiography
• Explorers
• Hunting
• Hameçonnage
• Baja California

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 21 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663242112
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 5 Mo

Extrait

A FINGER OF LAND ON AN OLD MAN’S HAND
 

 
Adventures in Mexico’s Baja Wilderness
 
 
 
 
 
 
EARL VINCENT DE BERGE
 
A FINGER OF LAND ON AN OLD MAN’S HAND
Adventures in Mexico’s Baja Wilderness
 
Copyright © 2022 Earl Vincent de Berge.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
 
 
 
 
iUniverse
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4210-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4211-2 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022912488
 
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 09/09/2022
 
 
 
 
 
 
Contents
Baja California, Mexico : A Short History and Observations 1962
Chapter 1       Chicago to Mexicali: Buena Suerte—Es Territorio Duro
Chapter 2       Border Crossing Screwup
Chapter 3       Customs and the Mexican Army
Chapter 4       To San Felipe and the Sea of Cortez
Chapter 5       Into the Coastal Desert
Chapter 6       Puertecitos by the Sea
Chapter 7       Searching for the Highland Pass
Chapter 8       Central Desert Highlands and Boojum Territory
Chapter 9       Gold Miner Camp at Las Arrastras de Arriola
Chapter 10     Road to Lake Chapala—Snakes, Bees, and Vultures
Chapter 11     Drowning in Devil’s Dust
Chapter 12     Rancho Chapala: Those Men on the Wall?
Chapter 13     Sierra de Calamajue
Chapter 14     Plateau of Giants
Chapter 15     The Pacific Ocean Finds Us at Muertecitos
Chapter 16     Miller’s Well Flying Circus
Chapter 17     Camp Ambrosia
Chapter 18     Miller’s Canyon
Chapter 19     A Short-Lived Tequila Ritual
Chapter 20     To Black Warrior Salt Mine
Chapter 21     Aboard the Argyll
Chapter 22     The Alvalro Café and Music Hall
Chapter 23     Eyes of the Rabbit: Scammon’s Lagoon
Chapter 24     Adrift in the Dunes: at the Edge of Lost
Chapter 25     Defeated
Chapter 26     Vizcaíno Desert: Nothing Is as It Appears
Chapter 27     Return to Nursery Inlet
Chapter 28     Dividing Our Forces
Chapter 29     Tale of Miller’s Landing
Chapter 30     Solar Salt Mining Process
Chapter 31     A Little Cunning
Chapter 32     Bush Pilot
Chapter 33     A Strange Visitor
Chapter 34     Señor Guthmannnnn
Chapter 35     Santo Domingo by the Sea
Chapter 36     Volcano, Snakes, and Coyotes
Chapter 37     A Stupid Decision
Chapter 38     Little Death: Dangerous Hombres
Chapter 39     One More Celebration
Chapter 40     Village of Punta Prieta
Chapter 41     Too Stupid to Cook Beans, and Mama Fuerte
Chapter 42     Three Village Tales
Chapter 43     Gentle Thunder, Fine Rain: Love in a Village
Chapter 44     Return of the Tire Hunters
Chapter 45     Sidewinder Jamboree
Chapter 46     Marble Mountain Quarry: El Marmol
Chapter 47     Night Drive to the Frontier
Chapter 48     Return to Baja 1964
Preface
When we were in our early twenties, we believed nothing could defeat us in our pursuit of adventure and becoming stronger, wiser, and more skilled. Enthusiasm herded us from Chicago to Mexicali, our rallying point to enter the 900-mile-long, untamed desert peninsula of Baja California, Mexico. We crossed the border with only a used Jeep truck and a map that could have been made by a Portuguese coastal explorer who noted only the vague locations of places he’d never visited. All we knew was that what lay before us was desert. We could only guess at its variety, purity, or size. Every valley, hill, canyon, arroyo, and hilltop proved to be a place to linger. Every mountaintop, every oceanside camp, and most of all, every hike afoot through this classic Sonoran Desert was, as naturalist Joseph Wood Krutch wrote, a venture into alluring places on a “forgotten peninsula.” For me, the only exception was a salt mine at Guerrero Negro where big business was converting ancient lagoons into cash.

Mark overlooks verdant desert below
Everything away from the primitive road was as it had been for millennia. We hiked for days without seeing a human footprint or signs of a domesticated animal. Any scratch in the sand was made by something indigenous to the area. A broken branch was the result of some wild animal having passed by. Sand sculptures on hillsides were the work of wind, water, gravity, or earthquakes. I have never forgotten the sense of being the first human to be in many of Baja’s more remote places. And, as I grew older, I always thought of Baja as my natural home.
At first, our voices were boisterous chatter as we discussed mastering a wild place. This gave way to quiet exchanges on the uniqueness around us, and finally to individual studies of the greatest and smallest examples of nature’s creativity.
Ours was no walk in the woods followed by a glass of wine at day’s end. This was total immersion by four young men exploring a huge, forgotten, and nearly unpopulated desert sea in a used forward-cab Jeep whose electrical heart needed therapy and whose tires, we learned the hard way, were unsuited for the challenge. We christened our steed the Gran Ambrosia and hoped she had the same resolute, adventurous spirit as our team. We kept her running, and she carried us through a world of treasure and trial. My world view was reborn amidst raw wilderness and isolated family outposts where we met practical and sagacious men and women whose feet were firmly and respectfully planted on the earth.
The year was 1962. We were drawn to test ourselves in this wilderness by two books. Joseph Wood Krutch, in his 1961 book, The Forgotten Peninsula , described a wilderness that was thinly settled and rich in raw, natural beauty, plant diversity, and challenge. Erle Stanley Gardner, in his 1961 book, Hunting the Desert Whale , used short, staccato sentences to describe harsh conditions, miserable roads, virtuous frontier people, and lost civilizations documented only in cliff paintings hidden in remote canyons deep in the superheated mountains.
Our team envisaged testing our survival skills during the most challenging time—the dead of summer when midday temperatures soared above one hundred degrees. Between college studies, participating in ban-the-bomb and civil rights marches and falling in love with smart women (one of whom I later married), we planned our expedición into the Sonoran Deserts on the longest peninsula on the globe.
One year after Krutch published his narrative, we stood at the head of a primitive, rutted trail. We had crowed enthusiastically, ready to forge ahead, but paused in awe at the empty desert that stretched into the distance until it vanished in a shimmering heat mirage.
At my side was Mark from Philadelphia, my college roommate and laconically humorous chum. He joined us in Mexicali after a wild bus ride from the interior of Mexico where he had been studying Spanish and working on a school-farm for orphans. He punched my shoulder and exclaimed, “Earl, I bet you think that superheated dust bowl is beautiful! Hell, let’s get going before it cools off!” From Chicago came Adel, an effervescent, fun-loving admirer of women, collector of firearms, and devotee of hunting. He brought along his sidekick, Brian, a quiet, sturdy, and likeable fellow whom I had met only a few weeks before we departed. Brian took everything in stride but always had part of his mind on his gal back home in Chicago.
During those three summer months, I was determined to indulge my emerging interest in photography, experience a desert wilderness, and live off the land. Baja became a passion of self-discovery and adventure. Mark already loved Mexico and wanted to learn more about hunting and Baja’s people and geography. I had no clue about Brian’s motive other than to be with his friend, Adel, during what he hoped would be a fun-filled summer. Krutch described Baja California as the most unique and beautiful wilderness oasis left in North America. For all of us, the real bonuses were self-discovery and coming to know frontier Mexicans, the best and most interesting kind of humanity I might ever meet. We also met worthy explorers, a handful of thugs, and several fools, but the worthy far outweighed the rest.
We were eager for adventure. I had the most desert experience, having been born and raised in the low desert of central Arizona, and I had saved enough money to purchase the Jeep and World War II army surplus gear suitable for camping and hiking. I kept a daily log of my experiences and photographed many plants and landscapes. Sadly, heat and dust played hell with my film, but some images came through just fine. Baja was even more beautiful and extraordinary than Krutch pronounced it to be. Perhaps because I have long been intrigued with the solutions desert plants develop to survive and the beauty associated with that success, I used this trip to explore that interest and document my discoveries in photography, admittedly as an amateur.
The endeavor cost us US$3,200, some of it recouped when we sold the Jeep at the end of the trip. Our vehicle