Tuesday, February 9
Today began with a comedy of errors. We had agreed to meet at 8 a.m., and walk down to the restaurant next door for breakfast. But first, being up early, B and I took a walk through the vineyards. We didn't find the winery buildings, but did find a chapel, completed in 2009, dedicated to the 50th wedding anniversary of the winery owners, ? and Maria Teresa Santana. It's a lovely, rustic building in a wonderful location.
We walked into the vineyards to another structure that was intriguing. A stone tower surmounts what looks like a shrine. In front is a sculpture made from two very large, roughly shaped stones. A concrete walkway edged with plantings leads left, up to a hilltop, and a framework structure that looks like the support for a roof covers a large area on the hill. We were unable to get close, and never determined what the structure might be. We did, however, gaze with awe on the Santana big house on the top of a higher hill, set among the citrus groves and overlooking the vineyards. There are lots of relatively new plantings in the vineyards. We surmise that Santana is going to increase production.
We met as planned at 8. D & G had spent 20 minutes looking for G's glasses. Turned out D picked them up, thinking they were his reading glasses, and put them in his suitcase. But where did they spend their time looking??? In G's stuff, of course. So we strolled down the to the restaurant ... which wasn't open.
So, on to Plan B. We loaded up the car. Fitting all our stuff around the case+ of wine we have bought proves to be a challenge. But the bigger challenge turns out to be finding the car keys. G had unlocked the car, so B hasn't used the set he's been carrying. He is sure he had them in his hand while loading the car. We look and look. G finally finds them -- B has thrown them into the trash in our room along with the banana peel he had in his hand.
We sound like the three stooges, yes?? Well, wait -- it's not done yet. We drive down the road, looking for a breakfast place. I pick out two on the main road. The first we pass, as there is no place on the divided highway to turn around. At a stop light near the second, we pull into the left turn lane. Oops, too soon. We debate pulling out again and proceeding on, or turning left. Finally we turn left, then right, only to find we can't go around the block. But ... the street leads to a restaurant. We park and investigate. Yes, they are open for breakfast. We enter and meet mine host, who likes to be called 'Arnie'. This gent lived in Alaska for three years, cooking for miners, in places as diverse as Juneau and Ketchikan. He offers us a Mexican breakfast -- chilaquiles, machaca, chorizo scramble, and refritos all on the same plate. It is how the miners like to eat, he tells us -- everything on the same plate. Mexican coffee, subtly spiced with canela (cinnamon) accompanies the breakfast. Oh, and of course there are corn tortillas. We pig out. Arnie gives us his card and a miniature tootsie pop each. It is our first time at his restaurant, he tells us, but not the last. As pit-roasted lamb is a specialty, he may be right.
Hunger satisfied, we cruise into Ensenada, and stop near the harbor to visit an ATM. A few tries later, we have pesos. We continue down the boulevard, but somehow miss the turning onto Highway 1. So, we double back and get on 1 going the wrong way. At the next stoplight, we reverse directions and are finally on our way to Meling Ranch. B keeps worrying, even after we are surely on the right highway, whether we have missed a turn. But ... how many well-paved roads are there south of Ensenada? Not many. We journey down the winding road, over ridges and through valleys, to our turnoff south of Colonet.
There has been enough rain that, at first, the road we're turning onto, which is supposed to be paved, appears to be dirt. A few yards on, however, the pavement appears from beneath the coating of mud. This road is pretty good, except for the one place it has caved in. Fortunately, someone has been here with heavy machinery and built up a dirt road bypass. Our only worry now is that we'll be late for lunch. We should call, suggests B (meaning I should call). I try every combination that I can find in the guidebooks, but get the same message in Spanish and a terminated call. I keep trying until I have lost all signal.
Eventually we arrive at our turnoff. The dirt driveway curves steeply downhill. We are here, and in time for lunch after all. Sulie (as we find her name is) greets and and shows us to our rooms. She will fix us lunch. It turns out our call would not have availed even if completed successfully. The number is for the office in Ensenada. We are completely off the grid here -- no internet, no cell service -- although the owner does have Dish TV.
By the time we carry our gear up to the guest house, the owner and his son have arrived. We chat about this and that and get some of the history of the place. We're the only guests; it truly is the off season. Here again we see the results of the heavy rains. Some of the ranch roads are washed out, and fences are down everywhere. Livestock has scattered. The cistern had been flooded, and the water is dirty and cloudy. As the afternoon wears on, the sky grows dark. It sprinkles, but doesn't rain.
We climb into our chariot with Matt, the owner's son, and head for the site of a petroglyph. We drive down the hill and across the river and over sparse grass. Finally, we stop and walk to a rock outcropping. High on the rock is the glyph. It's an intriguing one, making us all think of space aliens. We have no information about how old it is, and it is the only one they know about.
It is chilly here. Our room is heated by a small potbelllied stove. It puts out the heat, but burns the soft wood that is available at an alarming rate. A bit of kerosene in a plastic water bottle serves as fire-starter. The generator here goes out at 10 p.m., but there is a kerosene lamp in the room for after-hours reading. Dinner is served in the main hall, where massive table and long benches can seat a crowd. Our four places, set in front of an open hearth, look a little lonely. Beef steak, mashed potatoes, caulflower and carrots, and salad. We bring our own bottle of wine. Dessert is carrot cake. The huge hearth puts out plenty of heat.
Tomorrow we plan to visit the Parque Nacional Sierra San Pedro Martir. They tell us there are 3 feet of snow at the park entrance. We had hoped to visit the observatory located near the park, but we are told it is completely closed. No one can get in, and the employees that are there now are snow-bound.
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