Assault on the Devil

by

Bruce F. Barber

The room was crowded but quiet: His wife and mine, their teenaged daughters and here parents. Salvador pressed the button and the first slide flashed upon the screen. This was the moment I'd been waiting for. It was a view of northeastern Baja California taken from the top of Baja's tallest mountain. At forty-one years of age, Salvador had climbed it with eight other men both older and younger than he.

They called themselves "Los Rurales" (The Rangers). The best of friends, they were outdoorsmen who frequently took part in Baja's most grueling walking and climbing adventures.

For the previous three years, each man had participated in the sixty-eight mile "Caminata," the overland hike from the Pacific Ocean to the Sea of Cortez.

They had recently completed a "Baja 100."

A few months earlier, Alfonso Cardona, the man who would soon become their guide, had participated in the tortuous one thousand mile "Mission Walk" from Cabo San Lucas to Mission San Diego via Baja's twenty-one Spanish mission sites.

In October of '89, the Rurales were returning from a cross-country hike to Mike's Sky Ranch when, during a rest stop in sight of the 10,154 feet tall Picacho del Diablo (Baja's tallest), one of them laughed and, pointing to it, said, "Now that's what I call a real cross-country walk."

Eight heads turned as one to stare at the rocky devil. Eroded by ninety million years of wind, rain and ice, Picacho stands as a sentinel guarding a land only a comparatively few men and women are truly aware of: Baja California, the world's longest oceanic peninsula.

One hundred miles south of the international border at Mexicali, Picacho stands along the eastern boundary of the Sierra San Pedro Martir, the granite backbone of this five million-year-old peninsula. From its lofty heights, the eye can see nearly two hundred miles in any direction. The Salton Sea and Bahia de Los Angeles are but child's play to this lord of the land it surveys.

Salvador León began logistics and route planning the day the Rangers returned from the Sierra. They began their physical training with bicycle rides and running up and down a flight of forty stairs.

As their legs and lungs developed, Cardona led them to four of the most difficult climbing sites in northeastern Baja. They climbed El Centinela twice. Steep, dangerous and painful, they found descending more difficult than the five hours they'd spent climbing this ancient volcano. They climbed the sandy banks of the Sierra Cucapah three times, seven hours per climb, the sand taking its toll in calf muscles.

Cerro Prieto, the dormant volcano flanking Mexicali's geothermal site, was another five-hour climb and hard on the lungs. By the end of their second ascent, however, they felt their bodies coming into shape and decided they were ready for the dreaded Carrizo Canyon… with backpacks! And, following their second successful assault on Carrizo, they declared themselves ready for Picacho.

Each man was responsible for his own food and medicine. Each carried fifteen freeze-dried meals. Each carried his own first aid kit which included band-aids, a snakebite kit, aspirin, moleskin, personal medication, lip balm, and tweezers. Their toiletries included toilet paper, a comb, a toothbrush and paste, soap, one small towel and "Wet Ones."

Special clothing included hiking boots and two pairs of stockings: Men's silk stockings for protection against blisters; and heavy cotton stockings for moisture absorption, cushioning and heat radiation. Other garments included thermal underwear, tee and polo shirts, sweaters and bright-colored jackets.

They wore loose-fitting trousers with extra pockets. Gloves, goggles and wool caps completed their attire while sunglasses, whistles, mirrors, ropes and two-way radios comprised their safety gear.

Additional equipment carried by each included a sleeping pad, a sleeping bag, flashlight with extra batteries, a compass, topographic maps, two canteens, a cooking kit, a water filter, waterproof matches, a Swiss survival knife, a light-weight nylon tarpaulin and a space blanket.

Several of the man carried cameras and film. Each had his own trash bags and two of them carried folding aluminum chairs, as well.

April 27, 1990. Splitting into two groups, three of the men drove to the West Coast, south of San Telmo, and then east to the National Observatory situated at the nine thousand-foot level ten kilometers north of Picacho. Leaving their car in the safety of the Observatory, they donned their heavy packs and hiked several hours down to their first overnight camp. Their goal: Campo Noche, where they were to meet their friends at the end of the second day.

Departing Mexicali at the same hour, the remaining six men drove to the foot of Picacho at the southwest corner of the Santa Clara Valley. Donning backpacks, they began their assault via Diablo Canyon and, ten hours later, they, too, camped for the night.

Arriving at Campo Noche at four the following afternoon, the climbers had experienced a grueling nine-hour hike over boulders and ice-slick walls of granite. When the three men of Group A arrived two hours later, the team made plans for the following day's climb to Slot Wash at the 7,500 foot level.

Campo Noche is six thousand three hundred feet above sea level. A standard safety rule for climbers dictates climbing no more than two thousand feet per day above the six thousand foot level followed by one day of rest to allow the body the time it needs to adapt.

High Altitude Sickness, caused by decreased atmospheric pressure at altitudes where less oxygen is available to the lungs, is a potential problem faced by anyone who ascends to altitudes above six thousand feet. Mountain climbers, however, are exposed to Acute Mountain Sickness (a form of high altitude sickness). High Altitude Pulmonary Edema (an accumulation of fluid in the lungs), and High Altitude Cerebral Edema (swelling of the brain) when they ascend too rapidly to elevations above the prescribed two thousand foot increments.

After a good night's rest, the nine-man team began their third day of climbing. They had already come seventeen grueling miles and, with three thousand eight hundred fifty four feet remaining, still had several more miles to climb.

As regards hiking and climbing, a Class Two climb is along level ground and up and down steep hills without the use of the hands. Class Three involves steep slopes and boulder hopping. A Class Four climb is a steep ascent involving critical use of the hands. A Class Five climb involves ropes, picks, hammers and pitons. The Rangers' assault on Picacho ranked between Classes Three and Four.

Boulder hopping and scaling shear bluffs, the team arrived at Slot Wash campsite (7,500 feet) at 10:10 a.m. where they enjoyed a refreshing breakfast while checking in with their safety centers in San Felipe, Ensenada and San Diego. Ensenada, however, had a grim warning for the climbers: A storm was on the way with one hundred mile per hour winds and temperatures cold enough for ice. If it hit the Rangers while aloft, they could be isolated with little or no chance for a rescue party to break through.

Weighing the hazards of exceeding the two thousand feet per day limit, they elected to continue believing they could make it to the top and descend safely before the storm hit. Tired and sore, however, they decided to continue their assault with none but the barest essentials. Then, two hundred meters from the top, one of the men collapsed in the rarified air, his heart racing, and blood streaming from his nose.

Now the true character of these friends comes into focus. With success in view, with the rim of the earth only two hundred meters above, they turned to their fallen brother preparing to lower him to safety on a litter. But, that was not to be.

Bravely, the fallen man rallied, suggesting he could make the descent to Slot Wash alone while his buddies achieved their goal. But forty-three year old Armando Renaum had a different idea. The strongest of the group, he alone guided and assisted his ailing brother to the Wash after racing to the top to enable his claim upon the mountain.

Not only had their assault on the Devil been a demanding climb, but most of these stalwart men weren't mountain climbers in the technical sense. Although outdoorsmen, they were husbands, fathers and businessmen who now stood in the land of the lion and mountain sheep.

Upon reaching the top, several of the men wept atop a monumental mountain from where the view was breathtaking. The achievement of their goal had been difficult but thrilling, enthralling, incomparable…

They began their descent after posing for pictures, signing the concealed log at the top, and shooting the surrounding views. Now, however, because descending was a different matter involving a different set of hazards, they discovered they needed their ropes.

Returning to Slot Wash at six that afternoon, they found their friend sufficiently recovered to make the descent to Campo Noche by himself. Then, using flashlights held in their mouths, they continued their descent to Campo Noche from where they reported their position to the safety centers.

One and a half days later, one and half grueling days of rock hopping descent, slipping and sliding on trousers with seats ripped out, the Rangers stood safely alongside their cars smiling at the Devil's Peak. There had been nothing easy about Picacho… in either direction.

Staring at the giant, they grinned with a thankful self-assurance that said, "Por Diós, we made it." And then, tired and sore, faces swollen, muscles aching as they'd never ached before, they headed home, to their families, to a soft bed, and a few days of well-earned rest. Although one car remained at the Observatory, it could wait.

Less than two months later, on June 22nd, the man who didn't make it, forty-two year old Alberto Gruel, stood atop Picacho with Cardona and three other men who had never before been there. It was a dream come true for each of these proud men who will one day tell their grandchildren of the time they made… an Assault on the Devil. END