Another successful foray to our little patch of rocky,
barren paradise was made this past weekend and entered into the legend and
lexicon that is the Mount Signal Camping Club.
The Reno contingent spent Thursday evening travelling down
to Vista to overnight and make final preparations for the campout. The next
morning a pair of Bouchard vehicles made their way to Scripps Ranch to collect
the Commissioner of Sport & Games as well as several bundles of wood that
almost gained a mythic old English, life-like status over the weekend. After I made a quick detour to El Cajon to
pick up the unsinkable Julie Brown, we met up once again in Alpine for a quick
lunch where we were joined by the Mooney Mobile Mansion, piloted aptly, safely,
and lawfully never over the speed limit by Scout John Mooney.
The caravan continued on to the Rancho into beautifully
warm, windless weather. While the MMM and the AWM & CSG arrived and set
camp up, the NV contingent (myself, Leah, and our El Cajon stowaway Julie) made
a spur-of-the-moment side trip to one of the windmills erected to create energy
out of the elusive desert siroccos that waft through the Carrizo Gorge. Impressive to say the least! Very cool to
hear the ‘swoosh’ as the gigantic wings pass overhead.
The Pilot had one more stop to make before arrival at the
Rancho: Camachos. Camachos is a humble Mexican restaurant that is located in
the middle of a maze of farm roads about 6-7 miles from Signal Road. It has
been open since the ‘40s and when the Wagonmaster & family were stationed
in El Centro in the ‘50s, they were frequent customers. We stopped by, talked
with Rosie the owner, and left with a menu for ordering Saturday night’s
dinner.
On arrival at the Rancho, the hard work of the Bouchards
(Ken, Steve, and Mooney Bouchard) was evident. The flagpole was up, the
firewood was collected by the campfire, tables and chairs (and bar) erected and
the MMM was adroitly positioned so we had shade throughout the day. I began to
unload amongst countless queries concerning whether or not I would like a
beer. Soon the Julie-Leah tent was up in
its usual spot (I’m told it is the sandiest and least rockiest spot in camp),
the generator and lights were positioned for Night Bocce, and I was able to
finally have that Pacifico.
Later, as the sun began to set Drew arrived and was told,
much to his delight, that a bed had been reserved for him in the MMM. Of course
it wasn’t the pop-out California King that Mooney enjoys, but he had to rough
it in air-conditioned splendor on the secondary, paltry queen-sized bed. Mooney
calls it ‘glamping’… Tough.
Italian sausage began to be grilled and hot dogs were
roasted over the fire as Uncle Mickey arrived in his indomitable Jeep. He bbq’d
some spare ribs and passed them around as chips and salsa rounded out a very
satisfying Friday night repast. As darkness lengthened, an orange moon, nearly
full, rose over Calexico illuminating the Rancho and framing the attendees
gathering at the bar for cocktails. Many drinks were mixed and enjoyed over the
weekend, and toasts were made using Jack, Ouzo, blue tequila brought by UM, and
the most insidious of them all, Moonshine direct from Tennessee brought by the
AWM via the Artistic Director Sue. Wow! That stuff was liquid fire. I think I
could trace my digestive system for 10 minutes as this liquid alcoholic Drano
passed deeper into me. I stuck with JD or Ouzo exclusively after that.
Keeping watch on the camp 24/2 was our new sentinel. Uncle
Mickey, in charge of security, rigged up a sentry complete with emergency garb
and it kept camp safe and secure all weekend long and never even asked for as
much as a beer (though several campers felt sorry for him and offered him
one…).
The memorial to Miguel Esperanza was a bit askew and
unkempt. We were somewhat puzzled by this as it was the week after the Day of
the Dead, but we didn’t disturb anything. Later in the campout, a wayward
flower was found and replaced by UM and then after that the memorial was tidied
up and looked shipshape once again. Thanks Uncle Mickey (though he denied
responsibility… ).
Night Bocce then commenced on the best-lit court we’ve ever
had out there which led to some very competitive games. I brought a pair of
speaker stands on which we attached a pair of floodlights, all powered by my
Honda generator. The warm weather kept everyone from needing their jackets
until very deep into the evening. Night bocce perfection!
Saturday came in bright and sunny. Mooney led an expedition
to the Yuha Badlands in his jeep along with copilot Drew and deadweight KC. We
visited the geoglyphs, the Yuha Well, and at some point passed the oyster beds
and returned on the famous “Go ahead Matt, it’s safe to take a drink” road. It
was a fun excursion thanks to our resident Scout (who at no time this campout
requested any blankets or coverings…).
We returned just in time for our usual Bohemian lunch and
found Reid Bouchard in camp who had arrived in our absence. A classic Mount
Signal activity was revived by the AWM and Julie while we were gone: Acey
Deucy. The AWM seemed to have been the
champion this trip…
Many cans and a cool regenerating plastic target Mooney
brought were shot up & down the wash.
This reporter brought his .22s and his .380 while Mooney had his 9mm and
a new .22 pistol. Very fun! Towards the end Mooney shot skeet and did so very
well despite the skeet thrower’s ineptitude. Nice to chase some targets around…
After lunch, many rounds of a newer yet classic MSCC
standard, Great Dalmuti, were played as well as some Frisbee being tossed around
fueling discussion on a possible Frisbee Golf Tourney in an upcoming trip. This
reporter had a nice nap and woke up just in time for the Camachos run.
Mooney and I set off in his jeep for the restaurant and
arrived while they were finishing the order. Rosie and her husband told of the
struggles to keep the place going after the patriarch & matriarch passed
away a couple of years back. They say that the solar panel farms are due to
increase , stretching northward towards them. Indeed, Mooney and I noticed many
more acres of panels than last year. South of 98, the tracts that were being
worked on a year ago are all filled with panels and north of 98 a good many
more acres are being converted. After some chips and salsa we took the order
back to the hungry faithful at the Rancho.
A wide variety of food was delivered to the campers. Some
was okay, some delicious, depending on what was ordered. I personally had a
pair of chicken tacos that were good and a very delicious chorizo tostada. UM
had albondigas that he said were good but under-spiced while his Super Tostada
was outstanding. Everyone seemed to think it was hit-and-miss, but it was nice
for a change and this reporter was happy with his meal.
Fireworks then ensued, and even more entertaining than the
pyrotechnics was Ozzie’s reaction to them. Ozzie is a dog who apparently
dislikes anything starting with an “F”. If you’ve seen him barking at finches
or snapping at flies at the DeCola Bocce Tournament you know what I mean.
Unlike most dogs who seem to cower at the Fourth of July or when gunfire
erupts, Ozzie had to be restrained from attacking the fizzling fuzes and then
ran barking underneath the exploding shells. Classic! Needless to say, with Ozzie on patrol and
fireworks illuminating the bocce court we did not sight a Kitt Fox this trip
but did hear some coyotes in the distance towards Mexico.
More night bocce then followed with even more thrilling
games as my Dad & I held off all challengers. The most intriguing game
however was a completely different contest in which the suspense was chiefly if
the target winning score of ‘4’ could be met. As the game had to be won by at
least a 2 point margin, it took a long while for winners to be determined.
Saturday around the campfire was fairly mellow. Colorful
flames added much to conversation as a couple of chemical fire additives were
added to the fire. Uncle Mickey and I were the last ones up, discussing
patriotism, City College, and a fascinating trip to the PI that he shared with
his dad. Something about Signal just awakens memories and solidifies
friendships like no place else.
We all realized Sunday morning that Viki hadn’t made the
campout. Just kidding Vidalia, although the MMM was refreshingly free of vermin
and insects for some reason. Mooney, the AWM and the CSG cooked up the traditional Sunday breakfast
and John was thoughtful enough to bring Weedlemans to this nostalgic camper.
Tons of sausage and eggs were consumed and more than a few donuts as well.
After one of the smoothest breakdowns I can remember at the
camp, one by one the vehicles departed leaving the duck/goose/swan and the
desert to fend for itself until our next visit. Thanks to all of the dedicated
campers who shared the weekend with us. A memorable trip with great people,
good food, and fantastic weather- keeping the Wagonmaster’s spirit alive and
tangible in a place we like to call Rancho del Wasko.
