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July 12, 1998 Trip Report.  33 hours of flying in the Cardinal.

June 28, 1998
Aurora to Minden-Tahoe to Yuma, Arizona via Cardinal N3460T.  Joan and I crossed the Cascades at 5,500 feet through the Santiam Pass-beautiful, then climbed to 10,500 and on over Reno and onto Tahoe.  Minden is a glider port and for $75 you can take an intro flight.  With the mountains on the east side of Tahoe to provide lift, one could stay up till the bladder says time to land.  Had lunch there.  Yuma was 110 degrees when we landed.  Off to a hotel and a dinner.

June 29, 1998
Yuma to Guymas, Mexico--Cleared customs, refueled.  Gas runs $2.60 to $3.50 per gallon in Mexico.  Ouch!
On to El Fuerte, Mexico, taxi to Posada del Hildago, met other Baja Bush Pilots.   Jumped into the pool, swilled down a cervesa and a soupa de tortilla and kicked back.  Met the other pilots as they arrived.  We wanted to see the town, we went for an afternoon walk.  We walked around looking at shops (no tourists here) and went into a typical Mexican bar for a cervesa and some guitar music.  About 15 Mexican men and no women in the bar except Joan.  Fun!  Then a few blocks away we found a wonderful place for dinner, the Restaraunte de Meson General, named after a famous Mexican General during the 1940s.  This was his house.  Garlic shrimp and baked whitefish were our choices, which were outstanding, and the flan dessert was the best we've ever had anywhere.

June 30, 1998
Aboard the train for the Copper Canyon trip.  15 BBP people. Stopped at Divisadero for a view from 7,000 down into the canyon floor, awesome!.  Onward to Creel for a night at Hacienda de Margarita.

July 1, 1998
Onward via bus to visit Taramurra Indian caves, then on to Barranca Mirador Hotel.   Margaritas in the bar and
guitar music.  Bravo!

July 2, 1998
Mule / horseback ride down into the Copper Canyon (Barranca del Cobre) from 7,500 to about 2,000 feet or so.  Two hours down with seven mules and one horse.  Visited a Taramurra Indian farm and family, bought baskets, rode to a vista for lunch.  The trip back took more than 3 hours up steep trails and into an afternoon thunderstorm.   Soaked, sore riders hit the hot showers and cool margaritas, then collapsed into bed after dinner.

July 3, 1998
Indian dance, shopping and back to the train station for a ride to (got to look up the spelling). A 30 minute bus trip over rugged dirt roads with pot-holes of water landed us in the remote town of Cerocahui and the Hotel de Mision.  Cervesas and dinner were in order, followed by relaxing, visiting the church next door and exploring the town.

July 4, 1998
There we were, out walking in the sun in this tiny town, shopping in local stores, helping push a stalled pickup, going to church, sitting in the lobby and reading and playing the guitar.  Peaceful.  Vineyard on the hotel property and we tried a bottle of the local vino rojo with dinner, good.  Electricity ran for an hour in the morning and an hour and a half in the evening, so, the only lights were oil.  Nice, remote and peaceful.

July 5, 1998
Back to the trainstop via bus.  What a ride!  Then on to the train heading downhill.  After a couple hours, three of us asked to go into the engine and got permission to do so at the next stop.  The train manager joined us and we rode through tunnels, over trestles and through rugged terrain. The engine operator the "machinista" was ill with the Aztec two-step and was riding on the front rail, hanging over the side and catching the fresh breeze while 'downing' (or upping) his lunch.  Meanwhile, the assistant machinista was doing the driving and explaining all the levers to us.  Dynamic braking (electric drive motor polarity) was used to keep the train at no more than 37 kilometers per hour.   Any faster and it could get away from him.  As we passed through the tunnels (89 tunnels, some as long as 2 miles) the speedometer went black and the machinista's flashlight provided him with a view of the speed every 15 seconds or so.  After a couple hours we went back to our car and another group, including Joan, went up to the engine, hanging on the bars of the three engines as they inched their way into the engine.   Don't look down!  It's two thousand feet if you fall !  A thunderstorm provided excitement as we landed back in El Fuerte after dark following the 5 hour train ride.  Back to the Posada del Hildago for a cool beer and some snacks.

July 6, 1998
The Baja Bush Pilots departed for the north and two planes to Baja Sur while Jake and Joan kicked back for a nap.  A visit to the pool was nice except for noisy kids who took it over.  So off we went to town in the late afternoon to search for dinner.  We returned to the Restaraunte de Meson General for garlic and cheese laced langastinos--ummmm, delicious.  Flan for dessert and then a walk around town.   We checked out a Mexican hotel, very nice and real cheap, for next time.  Then while walking about 5 blocks from town we came down a street and a group of Mexicans were sitting on the sidewalk across the street and drinking cervesa while one of them played a guitar.  A gesture for us to join them was immediately accepted.  The home owner brought out two chairs and poured us a Carta Blanca.  After several glasses of beer and a warming friendship, Jake played three songs on the guitar.  The guitarist, Victor played "Mi esposa linda" (my pretty wife) and we all applauded.  They had mango trees in the yard and Roberto (Bob) brought us a fruit from the house that was delicious.   It was from a tree next to the mango, don't remember its name.  This was one on the highlights of the trip.  After two hours of drinking, singing, talking in Spanish and all we departed best friends with the words of Roberto " me casa is su casa"  Off we went to the Zocolo where we sat on a bench for an hour or more and watched all the young lovers prance around the block.  Back to the hotel and into bed early for an early departure.

July 7th, 1998
A cab ride to the airport ($ 10-a rip off) and the payoff of $30 for one week of parking and protection and we were in the air by 7:30am.  We decided to visit a colonial silver town where the mint had once been, called Alamos (the cottonwood trees).  The 4,000' paved airport was very nice and we taxied-back to a tie down, signaled into our space by the attendant.   We were the only plane.  We walked 1 1/2 miles to town and found a nice outdoor restaurant.  A big breakfast of omelets, french toast, jugo de naranja and coffee hit the spot.  Just as we finished, a guy named Candy Joe came out of his shop and offered us a tour.  He had lived in the states at one time and spoke good fairly good English. A bit of a coyote.  We toured for an hour and visited several hotels.  The best hotel was new and not yet open he said.  Named Hacienda de los Santos.                              
As we were about to leave, a girl named Raquel came to the door and said that they had opened three days ago and offered us a look around.  We did.  The hacienda was absolutely beautiful.  It was a bit expensive but we were on our honeymoon and we decided to stay, and Raquel was very convincing.  We took a taxi back to the airport to get our bags and returned to check in one of the most beautiful rooms I have ever seen.  On par with Las Mañanitas in Cuernavaca.  Had a beautiful pool just outside the door.  Meanwhile, the owners flew into town form Tucson in their new Piper Archer.  Jim and Nancy Swickard-wonderful people.  Jim and Nancy turned out to be good friends, wonderful hosts and we spent many hours talking with them.   Lunch was delightful chicken tortillas and dinner was steaks, baked potatoes and fine red wine, served next to our room by the pool, wonderful!  I wish that we had stayed another night but we wanted to visit several additional places before heading to the border.  We will definitely return to spend a few days and we'll keep in touch with Jim and Nancy via email.  Maybe they can visit us in Aurora sometime.

July 8, 1998
The following morning we departed after breakfast for the airport, chauffeured by Jim.   We shot a few photos from the air.  We stopped as Guyamas for a fast fuel stop and flight plan, then up to Isla Tiburon and across the Gulf of California at 12,500, always within gliding distance of a beach landing spot.  We headed south on Baja to the Hotel Serinadad and landed in the 100 plus degree weather.  Two extra large margaritas each (actually two pitchers) and we dropped into the pool, hardly able to find our room when we finally climbed out.   Drunk we were, and the next morning we were shaky.  Headed to breakfast and wolfed down omelets, eggs, french toast and a lot of coffee.  Didn't like Hotel Serinadad.  Price of $50 was OK, but somewhat run down, but the biggest problem was that is was a tourist trap for gringos-the ugly kind.  We wanted out, and we left right after breakfast, heading south 40 minutes to Loreto for gas.  Nice airport, quick service, we were the only plane except for a Cessna Citation that landed while we were there.  Northbound to San Fransquito to check out this beach airport.  Nice, but too hot.  Had a coke and talked to the people.  They have three cabanas and 5 palapas for camping.  Food is available and looked excellent.   There were expecting 18 gringos the next day so we decided not to stay.  Plus it was just too hot. 

We lifted off and headed toward Meling Ranch.  I had filed to San Felipe and called them to ask to change destination.  After two confusing conversations, we decided to land at San Felipe and refuel.  Then off to Meling Ranch.  They have no phone, so we just dropped in at their 2200MSL elevation,  3700 long dirt strip.  Great landing.  We gathered our bags and headed toward the ranch through a gate and across a stream, forded with a plank.  Just then, a girl named Opfilia showed up in a jeep and took us to the ranch a few hundred feet away, to a very rustic room, #4, and announced that dinner would be at 7pm . (la cena es a los seitie in la tarde) We got a couple cold beers, then headed for the beautiful pool for an  hour.  Dinner was set for three.  We were told that we were the only guests.  After awhile we begin to eat and soon an old grey haired lady showed up and sat in the place of honor at the end of table.  We assumed that must be Aida Meling Barre, the owner.  It was.  We spent two wonderful, magical days at Meling, swimming, dining, horseback riding, walking and talking to Aida, her brother Andrew and the cooks Opfilia and Judith and Opfilia's father Heumberto who takes care of the horses.

July 10, 1998
Alas, all good things come to an end.  We had coffee, paid our bill of $200 for two nights with three excellent meals per day and Opfilia drove us to the strip.  We took off at 7:40am and circled the ranch and wagged the wings at everyone standing in the lawn.   Beautiful, then headed toward Ensenada.  It was fogged in on the coast, so we headed east over the 10,000 foot mountains, past the observatory and into San Felipe for customs and exiting Mexico.  At 8:30am we headed to Calexico, cleared into the USA there and onto the Harris Ranch for a very big steak lunch and ice cream dessert.   Took on 7 gallons of fuel, the bozo could have gotten in 20+ gallons if he had known what he was doing.  Onward to Red Bluff for refueling at the new automatic credit card pump and off to V23 northbound.  Thunderstorms ahead caused diversion left and right and a climb to 14,400, but then back to 10,500 at Medford and over an overcast layer below all the way to Aurora.  Shot the GPS 35 approach and landed with a squeak and taxied to the hanger.  A trip to the Blue Jeans Tavern for peanuts and a beer took care of dinner.  Then home to drop into bed, but we were too excited to sleep until Midnight.

What a wonderful trip.  My Spanish was starting to come back a little, the weather was very hot, but a welcome relief from the Oregon rain.  No problems of any kind, great adventures, new friends, sunshine, wonderful flying.  It was perfect!

Hasta la vista Mexico, we'll see you again soon!

Jake & Joan Jacobs

PS  Just 6 weeks after visiting Aida Meling at the ranch, she died of a heart attack while talking to her beloved girls in the kitchen.  82 years old.  She had told us of previous attacks and wasn't sure how long she'd be around.  Sure glad we got to meet her. A legend in her own time.  More about her later....

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Nice picture of  Chaco Canyon, New Mexico.  © by Phillip Greenspun.
         Click for large view