Rancho El Coyote Meling

The road wound up the mountain but not exactly up, it was more like a long level drive into a shallow valley with not a mountain in sight. The park is 50 miles, 80 Canadian miles, from Highway 1 and after a while we got the feeling it was about time we gained some elevation. But the road meandered gently along as the sun headed ever so slightly towards the western horizon. 

We passed through some pretty down-at-heel farm village or other, the sort of poverty that fills a yard with broken machinery and the wild possibility that sooner or later one might be able to make use of some piece of junk.

"I suppose we can just pull over and wild camp if we don't find anywhere to stay up there," I said dubiously. Pulling over wasn't going to be easy as the road had no shoulders and not many turn outs. Slowly we gained a little altitude, but we weren't entering the granite cliffs and shady one forests of my imagination. I had read a little about the park and the photos seemed to show a place that resembled the Sierras if eastern California but this was pure Baja desert.

"Do we know if Coyote Ranch is open?" Layne said, "Maybe we should do some calling ahead before we take on these wilderness trips." 

"Where would be the fun in that?" I said. My theory is that reservations usually turn into a pain in the ass race against time and if we are taken by surprise on arrival our van is our home wherever we park it. We do not however have a swimming pool in our wonder van so I was living in hope that Rbacho El Coyote would be open if ever we arrived at the mythical campground. So far, things did not look promising, beautiful but not like the forests of my wild imaginings.

We kept going up little by little, watching the kilometer posts go slowly by. We met a few pick ups heading down the hill and they were driving fast like they knew the road. We were plonking along at 25 mph hoping for the best, slowing for the many dips in the road to accommodate flash floods, staring out the windows at the evolving scenery. Half way to the park:

We pulled over to check the view and as I started to pull out an SUV came up and passed us, then two Sprinter vans came puffing up the hill and instead of passing they tried to pull in behind us to check the view, so I drove off. The SUV stopped at a wide turn ahead and we passed them again and suddenly we were leading a parade of eight identical Sprinter vans with SUVs front and back. A guided tour then. 

I had no option but to lead the parade and we then started to wonder if the ranch was open would they have reservations and take all the space? You get to thinking weird stupid thoughts as you drive deep into the mountains with sunset threatening to close in on you.

There were a few of these signs along the way. "They look quite new," Layne said hopefully. "Its probably open," I said with the sort of confidence men are supposed to exhibit especially when they don't have a clue.

The white signs in the distance (above) marked the turn off onto a dirt road which we knew led to the ranch five miles down the track. Next question: would we get through? iOverlander was pretty clear that El Coyote is easily accessible by two wheel drive. Mike's Sky Ranch, a well known off road motorcycle destination far beyond our planned campground is barely accessible by capable four wheel drive vehicles. We should be good, we reassured ourselves. We peeled off to the left at the big sign marking the road to El Rancho Coyote.

The Sprinter caravan carried on up the paved road toward the park, twenty five miles and 6,000 feet above us. What they thought of the fat two wheel drive Promaster disappearing up a dirt road I don't know but I was glad we had separated.

We met three kitted out giant pick ups racing along raising dust cloud as the drive toward us. Layne wanted to ask them if they knew if the ranch was open but they weren't stopping for anything. At this point I said to Layne we could easily find a flat spot for the night and carry on to the park the next day and I hoped she stopped worrying about our sleeping arrangements. We were not entirely alone.

The sandy track was five miles long and we were ready to arrive. In one piece I might add, so we kept an eye open for hazards in ranch country.

Finally we saw signs of life.

If you are planning on buying an expedition vehicle built on a truck chassis of the sort that is finding favor among the hardcore wanna be overlanding crowd, height and width counts for a lot when you are on the road.

On we went with no sign of arriving. We fit through this cattle guard relatively easily. There was a gate across the road if cattle were being moved or large vehicles needed to fit.

In the distance we saw cultivated fields, not with marjiuana as your fevered imagination might first suspect but with Brussels Sprouts of all things! There were miles of them. 

Our arrival at the ranch itself was quite shocking. Civilization on a grand scale, all promises kept, including a cold but lovely swimming pool which we have enjoyed on the hot dry afternoons under the blazing sun.

The WiFi works, sometimes strong and fast and sometimes slower but I have backed up my photos into the cloud, I have exchanged emails with Webb Chiles always ready to remind me that I am a proper explorer now, and my posts are close to being quite up to date. We arrived here Thursday, I wrote this page Saturday and I have scheduled it to post Tuesday, all on the ranch's WiFi so I have no complaints. I do like have access to the web (not just the Webb). 

Consider the aridity of or surroundings, the 25 mile (40 kilometer) drive from Highway 1 on the coast and then take a look at the lush camping area which has been open to the public since the turn of the century. Are we lucky or what? 

Edgar who manages the facilities told me the grass here is never watered, it thrives on the night time moisture of the cold desert air. He also explained that the tap water in the campground is pure and clean and potable, a first on our entire Mexican journey. Some of the water they pump out of the ground is used for non potable needs but the stuff we use including in the sinks on the spotless bathrooms is safe to drink. I wash my teeth at a regular sink these days.

We have a picnic table, a barbecue grill and a fire ring with wood delivered for our use. It's not cheap at $25 a day but it's great value for money. It's also a full moon about now which gives added beauty after dark. They serve food at the ranch house and we enjoyed one breakfast:

There was one other van in the campground and I made myself known to Jeff and Nicole from San Diego. They are outdoor people who really use their Sprinter Revel four wheel drive. 

Jeff has spent the last decade riding off road motorcycles in California and Baja and got the van for the very good reason he didn't want to travel alone anymore. They were wrapping up a week at the ranch but we got to spend time together hopefully encouraging them to take the leap and spend more time on the road. They have a great machine for the kind of backcountry journeys they like.

The Revel was too small for us when it came out and we like the comfort of our 21 foot Promaster but unlike most people with four wheel drive vehicles we have met in the States these two go places where we could not follow them. For us Baja is a thin desert peninsula bisected by one paved road; for them its a massive playground filled with more destinations than you can see in a van life time.

And they have the toy to prove it, the capable Yamaha 200 ideal for desert exploration. We fell into an instant road friendship drinking into the night, exploring the notion of living on the road, travel, retirement, Mexico, vans and even how to become a nomad. They drove away a little too early for us as they aren't retired and they have obligations in San Diego just six hours from the ranch.

Their place was taken by three Mexican cars with the obligatory music and chatter and noise. Weekends in this country can be tiresome when the cultures clash between getting away from it all, even in a van, and taking it all with you in a boom box.

Rusty and the ranch dogs.

The source of all water at the ranch:

The ice cold pool, and lucky we are to have learned to swim in such water as its very refreshing.

Washed Costco blueberries drying in the desert air:

A working ranch worth horses, goats, sheep and cows.

With daily displays of natural beauty for the benefit of tourist visitors like us.

We egt towel the trails behind the ranch, between granite boulders and bushes following dusty trails and losing my dog as he scampers on his own through the wilderness.

I don't even bother with a collar here as there are no strangers in this tiny community. 

Reminders of their past, old farm implements below, as this ranch was created in the 19th century as a land grant to the Johnson Family who married their four daughters to the sons of the Meling family who also settled nearby. The heirs who got the water right made a fortune and even today sell their water to the coast farms which income allows this place to flourish.