The Meling Ranch – A Trip Back in Time

Monday, May 22nd, San Quintin to the Meling Ranch

I take advantage of the hotel’s wi-fi and in spite of Art’s quiet grumbling, I make a reservation for tonight at the Meling Ranch at the foot of the San Pedro Martir National Park. In 1932 my father, who was not quite 15 years old, went with his father, a professor of romance languages at Pomona College, on a trip to the Meling Ranch in Northern Baja. My grandfather was needed as translator for Professor A.O.”Woody,” a geologist who was doing field work in the rugged ranges above the ranch. My father’s extended stay there and the field trips he went on from there were what inspired him to become a geologist. Having heard numerous stories about his experiences at the ranch and his continued connection to the area over decades, I want to visit it first hand and continue the family tradition.

After packing up, Art and I drive an hour north from San Quintin; stop for breakfast and fill up with gas before we turn off at San Telemo to drive to the Meling Ranch. It takes us an hour and a half to drive 50 kilometers along the ascending winding road but we arrive at the ranch before noon. The Meling Ranch was founded in 1910 and is a 10,000 acre working cattle ranch with few yuppy amenities. It is a step back in time guest ranch that has been passed down through generations.

We park and walk towards the one sign that indicate “office;” a large communal dining room with an immense copper hooded hearth and long wood hewn tables that can accommodate many guests. A cheerful, Spanish speaking only cook is in the kitchen when we arrive and I struggle to communicate. Ten minutes later, she points us to room number 5, a short walk from the main dining hall. Our room is quaint, simple and comfortable with a king size bed and a private bathroom.  Art retires to the room to rest while I explore the grounds. Nowadays there is a pool, an expansive lawn and with advanced reservations, one can arrange for early morning activities. Horse back riding trips are only $15 an hour and there are guided trips into the national park and up to the observatory.

Communication is difficult since minimal English is spoken but I arrange for a 1:30 lunch in the picturesque dining room. My tostada and Art’s burrito are delicious but I have no idea how much these will cost? (when I pay the bill the following morning, I am charged $2.00 each for our meals:) 

The afternoon is hot but I insist on driving up to the San Pedro Martir National Park, another 50 kilometer ascent up the winding, cliff hanging road. Gratefully, we do not pass any other vehicles on this precarious road and we arrive at the national park an hour later. We sign the register and pay our 64 pesos each to continue into the arid pine forest park. The park pamphlet informs us that condors and big horned sheep reside here. I wish to visit the observatory at 10,157 feet which is the second most important observatory in Latin America but we find that the gates are padlocked and that visiting hours ended at 1:00 P.M. Disappointed, we drive back slowly, taking a few dirt road bypasses in hopes of catching a breathtaking view of the valley below. At the visitors center, I stop to ask about hiking trails and find myself out of breath and this door padlocked as well. It takes a few synapses for me to understand why I feel so light headed; sea level to 10,000 feet in just a few hours. 

Back at the Meling Ranch, Art rests before dinner. I wander into the vacant dining room, hoping to buy a glass of wine with intentions of relaxing outside on the grassy lawn, sipping wine and writing this blog. In broken English, I am informed that there is just 1/2 bottle of already open wine available. Last night, eight Swiss guests purchased the only three available bottles. Somewhat desperate, I ask to buy the half open bottle and it is handed to me free of charge. It’s not awful and Art and I share the meager allotment before dinner.

At 6:30 p.m. a dinner gong sounds and the few ranch guests gravitate towards the communal dining room. I envy the party of 8 Swiss travelers who have brought a large box of red table wine to share. (I eye the volume label on the box which lists 32 glasses.) The previous night this group of Swiss travelers depleted the Meling Ranch of it’s meager stash of 3 bottles of wine but they were wise enough to bring a back up. We are all sitting together at a long dining table but unfortunately, they don’t offer us a glass of their boxed wine in spite of my flippant mention that they consumed all of the ranch’s available wine the previous night. The night is warm and I am more or less satiated with a beer. The ranch has a finger or two of tequila on it’s shelf and Art and I order after dinner shots of tequila. Had we known that the ample shots of tequila were only $3.00 each, we might have indulged until the bottle was empty.