The Pack-Train I’ve always had an idea and a goal to put together a donkey pack-train and travel down to La Paz.

Down there, where our ancestors, our grandfathers used to go.

To bring back things they didn’t have, ‘bout a hundred years ago.

Like uncle "Chavalo" Romero and my grandpa told me, who used to travel to La Paz.

And it’s a good thing to re-live that.

It’s good.

I’m happy to be going with my son now.

And with friends from the Sierra de San Francisco.

I met Dario a while back.

He came here to the Sierra de San Francisco to look for some old time pack-saddles to use on a donkey pack-train.

That’s when he invited us to join him.

I’d really like to go with Dario to learn more about the pack-trains from a long time ago.

The things that they packed, where they went, and to learn more about the past.

It’s been a few years since he’s been telling us this: that he wants to put together an old merchant pack-train.

He always thought he’d like to do that.

To gather a dozen donkeys, and go to La Paz.

When they asked me if I wanted to go on the recua to La Paz, I said, "Yes, yes, I’d like to go."

I really wanted to know what it was like to ride in a mule and donkey pack-train.

I always wanted to go to La Paz... ridin’ along on a mule pack-train.

To re-live it in the flesh.

To know what it was like with the animals, working with the loads, struggling along, but enjoying, enjoying it a lot.

Having listened to those elders, who used to tell me stories, the muleteers, of the mule pack-trains.

And thanks be to God, now we’re going to do it.

I hope to get there.

I hope to get there.

I remember the stories from "Chavalo" Romero I remember... as if it were today.

about when he’d load goods from Comondú onto his pack-train of burros to go to La Paz... he and his dad.

Many of the old time pack-trains in Baja California Sur started their route from the twin villages of the Comondús... in the heart of the Sierra de la Giganta, where there is a lot of flowing water.

Eighty years ago there was a lot of agriculture and a lot of commerce.

It was a good place to grow sugar cane.

Even today the cane juice is still made into “panocha” candy.

That was one of the things the arrieros, the packers, took to trade.

Also dates, carried in rawhide cylinders, called zurrones.

In Comondú sweet wine and dry wine is made.

It was a wine that... the missionaries started to make here.

There was no wine here before then.

It’s a very special wine.

It was carried in “demijohns”.

They took cheese and bundles of dried meat.

And today we’re re-living the history that the old packers told me about.

How are ya’ feelin’ this morning?

Really well.

“fair to middlin”.

I woke up feeling well.

Up where we are, there’s still quite a few folks who travel by mule-back with pack-trains of donkeys.

But a trip like this, all the way to La Paz, goin’ for groceries, sellin’ goods, well, ya’ don’t see that much anymore.

Everybody’s got cars, racin’ around.

In the old days there was a lot of patience.

They’d go one day from here to there.

Next day a little farther.

'til ya’ got there.

Then turn right around and head back, just the same.

That was the old tradition from before y’know.

I started ridin’ when I was real little.

I was about three years old.

But I’ve never been on a pack trip as long as this one.

All this equipment that the packers used were made from what they had at hand... from the desert.

The aparejos are made of tanned cow-hide stuffed with straw.

They’re good for packing loads onto.

The guacales (pack crates) are made from cactus wood (cardón).

The zurrones are made from rawhide, and alforjas (leather pack bags) are made of rawhide or tanned hide.

My dad made most of the equipment... almost all of the equipment.

[Old style tanning vat with Palo Blanco bark] We made braided rawhide ropes and lassos.

We gathered a few aparejos but most of the stuff my dad made, to complete the recua gear.

We worked for 3 months every day from morning to evening.

Ramón, take your “southerner”.

(old style riding jacket) This is a southern-style deerskin duster that my grandpa made for me.

The “cuera” protects me from spines, branches and bruises.

Now here’s a complete cowboy, he just needs his knife.

Now he’s ready.

Yep.

A cowboy.

Yes, it's fever, from the "chickenpox".

In Zaragoza I’m going to take him to the doctor, so he gives him something for his throat infection.

But, what would that be, maybe from his fever?

Yes.

But then he can go with us from San Javier down the trail.

Yeah.

How’s my cowboy doing?

Well, he’s gotten worse and now he’s really sick.

Mmm.

Mom, what’s he doing?

Your brother has a fever.

My grandson can’t come with me right now because he got sick.

But maybe in San Javier he can join us, and we will ride along to La Paz.

Once he is well, my son, then he will come with us.

Then I’ll be very proud that my grandson went with me.

And my grandson will be happy to go with his grandpa to La Paz.

And that we are continuing the stories about our relatives when they came and went.

Go well, son.

We’ll see you later.

Behave yourself.

And get better soon.

Are we ready to go, son?

Let’s say goodbye, my woman.

You take care.

I’ll make a promise I’ll take all of the medicine, right on schedule.

In the name of God.

Now, with this, I’m 15 again.

If you allow me.

I’ll go ahead, in front... You’ll go marking the trail?

.marking the trail.

So that you can see the entrances, and where you’re going.

That’ll be easier.

This man we are speaking with is my relative, Silvestre.

He’s one of my best memories, since I was a kid.

Uncle "Chavalo" told me that from Rancho Canelo to La Paz they rode 12 days.

Twelve days, yep.

Don Chano also said they would go and bring back the cargo 16 days later.

At 16 days.

And there were other recuas here too?

Yeah, well, Gonzaga had one, and Tojito, and the Morenos here had recuas too.

They also had recuas.

My respect is for you, cousin.

We’ll see you later.

Have a good trip.

Thanks, cousin.

The recuas disappeared so many years ago.

Now we’re re-living them today.

And we're going to take them with us, always.

This is The Royal Highway, El Camino Real.

We’re going along El Camino Real.

We need to engrave this in our memories.

How long would it have been the last traveling merchants came through here?

Now, it’s our turn to travel it again.

After many years.

El Camino Real was the route that the Jesuits made between missions of the peninsula.

It follows old indigenous routes to waterholes.

Over time ranches were established along the route.

When there were no roads there were recuas.

That’s how people moved and commerce was carried out.

Now I’m going to be 70 years old, and I’ve always traveled working with burros.

How time goes by so fast.

Hey, Kid.

(nickname of Luís) I think today’s journey is good.

What do ya' think?

This is a good place to unpack.

It’d be good to stay here.

Well, when you get old.

you gotta recognize that now you can’t.

.. that it’s not the same... and now you can’t .

.. even though you want to.

One a day.

at 6:40 p.m..

But.

I’m happy with what I lived, what I once lived.

Every day I feel better.

That’s gettin’ ahead.

Yep, gettin’ ahead.

gettin’ ahe.. Just gettin' out here on the trail, I’m gettin’ better.

‘Cause I know I’m on the trail.

I think we’re gonna enjoy this trip, every minute, every step.

When we were gettin' ready to head out, ‘bout 2 days before... he got real bad.

He had a cold, and it turned to bronchitis or somethin’ like that.

Such a bad cough he couldn’t breathe.

We took him to the clinic.

They treated him, two days.

My mom and my sister and brother told him he shouldn’t... That he’d better not go on the trip.

But he wanted to come along on la recua.

No... Yep, I get real bad.

I always say: (Dario invents a poem) This Cowboy Gear, I Wore it with Honor Ridin’ my Horse, Under Rays of the Sun.

O.k, now.

We can ride all day.

Wait a little... calm down a bit, ‘til you get over it.

He wants to go on now, but... it’ll be better if he rests a bit, yeah?

Fierro!

(Put the pedal to the metal!)

There’s plenty o’ time... not enough life.

Eh?

His cold didn’t start out so bad, but he was working curing leather to make the recua equipment, and that made it worse.

So I don’t know how he’s gonna be on down the trail, and that worries me.

I’d rather he stayed, and we’ll move la recua.

Until he gets better and then he could join us.

6:42.

It’s time.

Ah, okay.

You gotta take it at 6:40.

You stay sittin’ there a while.

In the back country... here were my shelters of youth.

Seems like a dream.

How many times I slept on my saddle blankets: wrapped up in my deerskin duster.

How comfortable.

What more can I ask of my God?

Nothin’.

This is a beautiful thing.

It's rare that a trip like this happens... ya' almost never see it.

Could be ‘bout a hundred years or more since a recua came by here.

or more... Maybe so.

Back then there were orchards, ranches in the mountains.

Back then they traveled.

And now, the trails, well, they’re almost forgotten.

And all the ranches are abandoned.

Trade-goods on donkeys, where would they take it?

Nowhere.

The recuas are finished up.

And now... with this one.

Following the old trail to La Paz.

I never thought... I’d be so happy on this old road.

In the middle of El Camino Real, traveling with my friends and sons, I’ll keep it with me forever.

Until beyond death.

Donkey!

What is it that is in everything?

It’s in walking.

The road?

Yep, it’s in the road.

But that’s not it.

The world?

It’s there too, but that’s not it.

It’s in everything.

In everything, right?

Yes, in everything.

It’s in everything.

It’s the most simple thing you can imagine.

Yes, for sure, that’s what I’m thinking.

It’s thought!

Exactly!

It’s there.

but that’s not it!

Do you give up.

or let’s go?

Well, might as well go.

Onward!

Follow me, my friends!

Macho!

What is it that is in everything?

In the night?

Also in the day.

It’s in everything.

San Javier, my friends!

We’re almost there!

Let’s go little donkeys!

Good afternoon!

Bravo!

That’s my cowboy!

That’s just how the recuas used to be.

For more than 300 years the mission of San Javier has been a place to go for pilgrims.

We arrived during Easter Week... when a very special mass is celebrated.

Do you feel better now?

Yep.

What’s up?

Do you feel better now?

Yep.

Me too.

I feel better now too.

Let’s see your face.

Now you don’t feel so bad?

No.

Well there we go.

That’s good.

I got better too, now I’m well.

Beginnings and end.

Alpha and Omega.

How’re you doing, Cruz?

You remember me, right?

No, I don’t remember.

I’m Darío.

Darío, where are you coming from?

La Purísima?

I’m coming from El Jarillal.

You know a lot about working with animals.

You used to ride on mules all the time.

Everywhere.

We’re remembering when you used to ride horses.

You were one of the mezcal makers.

You used to pack mezcal.

and bring it down on donkeys.

Yes, I used to cut mezcal.

From the mountains... down to the beach.

There are many stills left.

That’s what’s left, only the stills of the mezcal makers.

I like it that you talk about the past.

Everything is really different now.

You used to have donkey pack-trains.

A lot of donkeys.

And mules too.

All of that is gone now.

Yep, all gone.

But I’m really happy to see you all on mul.. Doña Delfina, like 50 years ago.

I used to ride wild mules.

Yes, I know, a lot!

But God bless.. That we saw each other again.

Exactly sir!

I’m really happy.

Oh, yes, we too.

I hadn’t seen this “little bird” in a long time.

Many years.

Cruz, it was a pleasure to see you.

Ma’am, it was a pleasure to see you.

When I come back I'll visit you again.

Whenever you like.

And we’ll talk.

Whenever you want.

Look how pretty they are!

Oh, the mules and donkeys!

Blessed be God!

Donkey!

Changes, everything changes.

Everything changes, everything changes.

I change, everything changes.

Heh!

One time, a rattlesnake bit a 12 year old kid.

Instead of going out with the boy, they went to look for the father, so he could take him to get help.man!

He wasn’t there.

He’d gone to Santo Domingo, a two day’s ha.. By the time they got back the boy was really bad off.

His wound started to open and blood was coming out.

And he died.

he died.

Y’know the mother of that kid.

was Delfina .. the wife of the old fellow that we said hello to back there.

That was the boy’s mom.

There’s the saya, look.

Under those stones.

For this it’s better... ...to have a pick, or an iron bar.

You have to wiggle them, wiggle them, wiggle them.

You can add them to a stew.

You can make tortillas with them, mixing it up with some flour.

You can mash them up, fresh like this.

And, Ramoncito you can make it into atole with honey or with milk or sugar.

Or you can put it in with beans.

But when you’re out here in the back country, you just eat it.

You eat it pure, like this.

Heh.

Son of God.

Darn, these cramps are killing me.

Look, my ribs are getting lumps.

They hurt a lot.

But really strong.

I have to stand up in the stirrups because of all the cramping.

Seems like they are bunching up, that the ribs bunch up, like this.. .

the.. the nerves.

Seems like they’re starting to move, to gather up like this.

And they start to.

..to gather up and make it really painful.

A lot, a lot of pain.

You’re not going to be able to ride like that.

No, for sure not.

But...

But.

I wanna finish the ride, today’s journey, that’s for sure.

I can’t put the lid on the gallon jug, with all the cramps I have, look-it.

Look.

My hands are all balled up.

Look, what’s happening with my fingers, look.

[Darío invents a song.]

“My ladder broke... .. there’s only one rung left.

.. even though it was made from ironwood... .. it didn’t hold up for the job.

Aaaaay... .. Ay, darling little cramps.

.. when are you going to let me be?” Di da di da... Suéltale!

Let him go!

Ready!

On the ranch.

...the boys went out on round ups when I couldn’t do it anymore.

Because they grew up in the back country.

My dad didn’t know how to write, or read.

But he knew how to do math, easy and quickly.

For the animals he sold, or delivering loads of cheese, or whatever he worked at.

Everything he learned about, he’d share and tell.

Most stuff they’d just learn by memory.

It was like a school.

I think my kids learned... whatever you’d teach them.

When they were pretty small, I’d put them on wild burros and mules.

Go for it, son, nothin’ will happen to you.

Just hang on!

Just don’t fall off!

That way they started to train their own animals since they were little kids.

These days I wouldn’t do it that way.

I think I wasn’t thinking very much then.

Because it was actually very dangerous.

I didn’t always behave myself very well.

because when I was young, I .

sometimes I drank and all that, but.

I always tried to... to be the best I could with them.

I think I’ve been a good father to them.

And, well, they're very good sons and daughter.

I don’t ask anything of them.

God, help us on our road.

Help us arrive well.

The most important thing is that he learns how to ride, to work with animals, the cows, the horses, everything.

To work with them, move them, so that later on, when he’s big, he can defend the ranch.

Improving it, or maintaining it.

I would like him to study, but then that would be... adding his own part too.

But yeah.

that might help him in the future.

Hey, pay attention to where you gave it a turn.

Pay attention over here, look.

Pretty soon you have to go back, son, you have to go to school.

Do you want to continue on with me?

Or do you want to go back to school?

No, I want to go with you.

You want to go with me?

Yeah.

I’m going to tell you the truth.

I see that on the ranch, it’s very difficult right now.

For example, my grandsons: I don’t want them to stay on the ranch.

I want them to study.

That’s the truth.

We worked here.

This was one of the largest ranches.

We had a hundred “castrados”.

(neutered animals) And then the droughts came.

Life on the ranch is hard... when there’s no resource.

Day by day there are more droughts.

One needs to experience it... to know how one suffers in the outback.

Look.

Do it for a year.

Not even a drought year, whatever time.

Like my kids suffered herding goats, with their heels all scraped up... because they worked in just sandals.

I don’t want that for my grandsons.

I want him to be a rancher.

But I want him to be professional.

That he studies a career, and has a ranch, that he wants, and that he loves the animals.

Because.

...only the guy who carries the sack knows what’s inside.

I don’t know if I’ll go to secondary school, or if I’ll stay on the ranch.

I don’t know.

I don’t know really.

I really like working with animals, saddling up.. .

and all that.

Working with them.

Riding too.

I’m gonna miss all the mischief he causes.

Are you gonna miss us, Ramón?

No!

Yep, I‘m going to miss him.

The day he takes off, I’m going to miss him a lot.

We’re all going to miss him.

But, I’m going to try to make sure he’s there when we go riding into La Paz.

Say hello and give a big hug to all the family over there.

Okay.

What a beautiful thing, that car!

But I wouldn’t trade it for my mule!

Here’s where we’re stopping, Kid?

Yep.

This is San Juanito, Kid?

Yep.

Good afternoon.

Hello, Hey.

Tell me, how are you doing today?

Oh, good.

Okay, well.

I have visitors.

They say the first car that came was in 1934.

Back then cars weren’t used to go to.. .to bring back groceries from La Paz.

Just on mules, like those.

Back then we didn’t even know about alfalfa, you couldn’t get concentrated feed.

You couldn’t get... hay or forage.

Nothin’, none of that.

They brought in from the desert... barrel cactus, you know what they call - you know it right?

My dad’s name was Jorge Lucero Murillo.

He made the, the...

Deer hide.

to make the cueras (suede dusters) Deer hide, leather, he made all of that.

The only thing left of his work is his old workbench.

That’s probably more than 100 years old, God knows.

Look, what... what a beautiful thing!

When he was working it was in better shape.

What a beautiful workbench!

This is where he did his engraving/drawing.

This too, and where he did the stamping.

This is.

where he pounded.

This is a...

This is a leather-working bench that’s... .

well, a bench that ‘s the most beautiful that I’ve seen.

It’s really a beauty, this bench.

Hey, do you know what this is made of?

It’s made of mesquite wood.

I’ve never seen such a beautiful thing.

That tree was a huge one.

Yes, it was.

The man who made it was Abraham Collins... Eee..

Many years ago.

I never knew him.

It’s the kind of work that I still do too.

And to find myself here, where there are still things like this, well.. this is my world.

I love it a lot.

You aren’t affected by the drought here yet?

No, not yet, but now it will start.

It will start...

The things that help us out now are the storms.

Yep.

The storms.

And at the same time they benefit us, they tear down the houses, the water in the arroyos wash our animals away.

But, in spite of that we’re still always waiting to catch a corner of a hurricane.

Exactly.

Because that is the life of a rancher.

the water.

The water.

What is it that is moving down El Camino Real?

It’s the Recua of Darío, heading for La Paz!

The old-time merchant packers passed through here, look!

Donkey We got in late, brother.

But at least we found water.

That’s the best thing.

The water’s good, I tasted it already.

It’s not salty or anything.

That’s a step in the right direction.

And just that we have water... that’s a beautiful thing!

If I would have brought a short rope along... maybe I could have gotten a whole "tercio" (1 bundle).

But no.

I know my legs won’t hold me and I’d take a dive.

So, it’s better that I just be able to get down the hill.

I should have imagined that I couldn’t bring down much.

But one little branch.

It’s good.

I’m sorry, mule.

Look.

I got this little branch of copal.

Hey, what are we going to eat tonight?

Where’s the lunch stuff?

Here’s the bag.

I don’t know what’s left.

The arriero eats from the cargo he carries.

Hey, and what happened to the dried meat we brought, Kid?

This is it!

That’s the dried meat?!

Oh, Little God of my life!

There’s the meat, brother!

Look.

wait, Kid.

It has stuff on it... lots of bugs... and grit.

Ah, well, just shake it off.

They were inside the bag.

So, why did it get a bunch of stuff on it?

Never mind, with this meat... no man, forget it.

We’re good.

But I like it that they’re burning off.

It’s gonna burn, son.

It’s ready, son.

‘Ya think it’s ready?

Yes, sure.

it’s going to turn to charcoal, y’know.

With your hand, just pull it apart, brother.

That’s the way you do it.

Thanks.

You’re welcome.

I swear, with this I’m gonna be good.

Tomorrow we get to La Paz.

By the grace of God.

By the grace of God.

We are going to cross through here?

After 80 or 100 years, this is maybe the last recua that is entering La Paz.

Like our elders did.

I feel like uncle "Chavalo" Romero and my grandfather... have been along with us on this ride.

The Recua has arrived!

How are you, brother, how was the trip?

You made history, brother!

Good trip, good trip, good trip.

Auntie, meet my friend.

Mucho gusto, María Ezequiel Higuera Meza.

Ricardo Arce.

Did you bring me a saya?

He ate the ones we got.

Did you eat all the sayas?

Darío.

the professor says he did these jour.. He’s very emotional right now.

Thank you!

Congratulations for preserving our past!

What’s this.

is it hide.

or what?

What is it?

It's cow It's cow, mi love.

I’ll sell it to you.

Six thousand five hundred.

What can I do with it?

It’s for roundups.

There is more cheese.

Ready, other cheese.

Almost ready, don't hurry.

Hey, hey, did he pay for that already?

Here you have, it's here.

Don't let it drip, be careful.

Thank you so much.

It was all worthwhile, wasn’t it?

Of course it was!

Thank you, all of you!

I’m very happy.

Very happy that my son and grandson were on the trip.

My friend Ricardo, and his daughter, Azucena.

I feel that when I... when I am no longer around...

I will still want... to be a part of the recuas.

And that is how I will be remembered.

remembered in this way by my sons, grandsons and friends.

Just like we have the memory of don "Chavalo" Romero, and all the other arrieros.

Those were the Recuas!

The truth is, I feel very happy.

In ten years, I might say...

I imagine being in Rancho San Esteban.

Working with my folks, here, with the whole family.

To be helping with my grandparents, and all that.

Or, look at it this way: I was born here, and really...

I would like to stay here.

for my whole life.

For me, I like living here in the ranch a lot, because.

well, I truly like the animals.

Here, yes.

you live more tranquilly here.

As long as you are healthy, well, thanks be to God, you can live very happily... with your family.

My father and my grandfather have worked all their lives in the outback.

My grandpa taught me many things.

How to take care of animals.

How to tie on a cargo.

And what it was like to work in the past.

I feel like... ...proud to be the son of a rancher.

I’ve invited him to come and stay with me on the ranch.

But he wants to be alone, and he’s happy.

It’s okay.

He says in time he’ll leave the ranch... .but not yet.

He’s still got time left to be on the ranch.

And I hope a long time.

"They went by many ranches, following El Camino Real... where our grandparents traveled, coming and going to La Paz.

Now with this I say goodbye... with a knot in my chest.

Here we finish the verses about a pack-train of burros."