Baja California, the longest continuous peninsula in the world, is made up of layer upon layer of volcanic rock and ash: both lava and debris flows lie in layers over an ancient granite bed that winds down the spine of the peninsula. There are at least six recognized Quaternary volcanic regions on the peninsula. These volcanoes are not part of the traditional "ring of fire" as subduction ceased in this region 15 million years ago. The young volcanoes, and their remaining flows visible along the peninsula, all tell a history of a land mass shaped by tectonic activity. 
  --Brian Hausback 

      On either side of Baja California, Mexico, a body of water surrounds bays and beaches:  on the Sea of Cortez where the waves are small, and on the Pacific where six foot waves pound huge stretches of sand.    The water creates a serene setting, while pumice and ash coated beaches remind us that Baja has been volcanically active in the recent past and may continue to erupt in the future. 
     These rocks, gas emissions, and other features the team hopes will offer clues to the origins and present hazards of two volcanic regions:  Las Tres Virgenes / La Reforma and Isla San Luis. 

      Hiking away from camp in a glowing sunrise, we headed through a cactus forest: everywhere we walked there were cactus.   The desert smelled clean, and fresh, with a fragrance coming from the trees and shrubs.   Aside from the birds flying around the cactus, the other wildlife of the region, including the desert bighorn sheep, remained elusive. 
      Chris, Sergio, Keith, Brian and I were headed up a wash to the base of Tres Virgenes. Dressed in long-sleeved clothes, work gloves and work boots, we looked more like we were headed for a coal mine than a hike.   On our backs we carried enough food water and clothing for two days, as we planned to sleep on the summit.   Below us, loose pumice and ash seeped energy from every step.   Course volcanic dust coated our nostrils as we progressed, and from time to time, pumice blocks would cause us to stumble.   And, always, with every wrong move, the cactus would be waiting. 
      "Sunglasses are good," said Chris as he hiked up the wash to a large exposed layer of volcanic tuff.   "When you are careless, the ocatillo cactus can reach down and poke you in the face.   The glasses will prevent you from having to remove the needles from your sensitive eyes."
      By 8:00 a.m., the sun was up and it was already warm outside, and each of us had begun to sweat.   Our route took us along a large pumice deposit, the remains of a recent eruption vent, through a gorge and up the mountain to a prominent V-shape eroded tephra deposit.   It seems that the only paths through the cactus were the drainages, and these were filled with loose  volcanic soil.   Besides, walking straight through the cholla forest was nearly impossible:  growing to heights of 8 feet or more, the thick tangles of cactus could envelop hundreds of meters of terrain, making forward progress difficult.
      "Get a shot of this," Brian called to Keith, as he and Chris took samples of a blocky pyroclastic flow deposit.   "We hope to find out more about the frequency of eruptions in this area.   How old, where they came from. Any new information is helpful." 
      We had decided to hike to the summit of Tres Virgenes for several reasons.   First, to gather rock samples for comparison to other lavas on the mountain.   As Tres Virgenes is a high point in the area, it would give us a nice vantage point to survey the region, and recon promising routes to the nearby La Reforma caldera.   In May, it would be unlikely for the whole team to attempt the summit of Tres Virgenes, due to the length of the hike and the heat.  Also, the focus of that trip would be Isla San Luis and La Reforma.   In January, we were desperately seeking roads, paths, anything that would help us gain access to the north and west flanks of La Reforma caldera.   Chris was also scouting for areas to take gas readings, as we planned to return with his measuring devices. 
      As we hiked, it was hard to imagine what this region looked like before the volcanoes became active: now they towered in every direction. 
      "Before Tres Virgenes and El Azufre," Brian said, "when La Reforma erupted, the valley that was once here was filled with ashflow tuffs and flows.   When El Azufre formed, the valley was blocked."
      "Later, Tres Virgenes erupted to the south, blocking the valley further," Brian continued.   He pointed southwest at airfall pumice deposits, extending more than half the distance to San Ignacio, evidence of a spectacular explosive eruption at Tres Virgenes.   White on the brown landscape.

      The higher we hiked up the mountain, the more the vegetation changed.  As we rose, we left the cholla forest for elephant tree groves. From the elephant tree to the cirio cactus, from the playful cirio to holly like maltonia and palmettos.  With each change of forest, the fragrance of the desert plants would change.  Beneath our feet an endless supply of loose boulders, and volcanic rubble.  Any glimpse of green vegetation--harsh cactus or otherwise, is a welcome sight in a land of volcanic rubble.  Lying in the shade of the elephant trees, bones aching, we looked across the desert.  From here, from this high vantage point, it was clear that these mountains grew as volcanoes--apparently young volcanoes, with very little surface erosion. 

      Breaking for a quick snack, Keith, Brian and I radioed to Sergio and Chris, about 200 meters below us down the canyon.   Sergio, sounding troubled radioed that Chris was taken ill, and that they were perched atop the steep canyon rim, the crux of the approach. 
After a lengthy radio conversation with Chris, Brian decided that the group could split up, since we had radio contact.  We would proceed up the mountain, while Sergio and Chris would retreat to the base camp.   If his condition deteriorated at all, the summit team would descend to meet the others.
      A couple of hours later, as the sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean, Keith, Brian and I scrambled to the summit and set up camp amidst the palmetto trees.  An aluminum cross with a bust of Jesus Christ, with an inscription for the miners of Santa Rosalia marked the summit shelf, a flat area 3 meters by 3 meters.   On the summit, and a nearby peak, broadcast towers transmitting seismic information stood 10 meters high.  When we’d walk by, an electronic noise would transmit data to a computer somewhere on the globe--probably at the University of Mexico. 
      An unattended campfire in 1998 burned most of the summit vegetation to the ground.   The fire created so much smoke that it was mistakenly reported to be erupting.  Upon arriving from the dense mid elevation forests, the charred plants and rugged rocks indeed made Tres Virgenes look like an active volcano, but there were no visible signs of activity, no ash spewing or steam venting. 
      "We’re on top of the world, boys!" Brian said upon reaching the summit.   To the north, the rugged El Azufre, to the south, La Reforma and oceans on either side of the peninsula.   Distances looked deceiving from this elevation.   Keith, then I made the platform and we were all happy to be through with the hike.   A quick radio check with base camp confirmed that Chris and Sergio had arrived safely back at the trucks, and Chris, while he was still feeling sick, was in good spirits. 
      "We thought we had a direct line to the trucks," Chris said.   "Then we butted up against a HUGE pile of cholla.   It took us almost an hour to get around it, hiking in sand the whole way.  Tomorrow, I’ll try to steer you three away from it."
      Chris and Sergio made it back to the trucks by 5:00 p.m.   Once they reached the more powerful truck radio, we were able to communicate clearly.   Chris, having suffered an intestinal discomfort, was doing better after a light meal and rest.   It was good to hear our team member was doing well after all he had been through.
      With everyone accounted for, it didn’t take long to fall asleep among the rocks and palmetto trees, beneath the cross, too tired to think about the potential "activity" within the volcano. 

      Waking up to a warm wind at night, the visibility was immense.   Lights from cities thriving on Mexico’s mainland, across the Sea of Cortez, shimmered more than 150 miles away.   Beneath us, lights from Santa Rosalia and other cities up and down the peninsula sparkled.   There was hardly a sound to be heard except the wind, and the occasional whisper from a palmetto bow. 
      Lying down and admiring the stars, the trans-peninsula air traffic route was visible overhead.   Like clockwork, at 15 minute intervals, jetliners carrying tourists from the US to destinations in Mexico flew, their blinking lights chasing each other.   These volcanoes lie beneath this air traffic, and are of great interest to the airlines: powerful, explosive eruptions are extremely hazardous to airplane jet engines.   Nearly invisible at high altitudes, fine ash heats up in the intake of the engines, forming a ceramic coating and eventual failure for unsuspecting planes.  (Thinking of the planes suddenly put me back on top of a volcano, and while I wasn’t nervous, the seismic station’s occasional chattering was at times unnerving.)
      A benchmark at the summit told us we were at 6,399.77 feet elevation, the highest point in Baja California Sur (the southern half of the peninsula).   To the east, the Sea of Cortez is less than 15 miles, and to the west the Pacific Ocean approximately 80 miles.  At the summit, we were nearly 3,000 feet higher than our vehicles.   From this vantage point, with two oceans in sight, you really felt on top of the world.

      Following a quick breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, we were grateful that it stayed clear and warm the whole night.   Keith awoke at 5:00 a.m., taking over five rolls of film at sunrise.   Like a machine, as he did every day, I could hear him milling around his gear as I lay in my sleeping bag, exhausted. 
      Brian radioed base camp, waking Chris and Sergio, who were still recovering from their earlier desert crossing.  Whatever intestinal illness Chris had acquired, he had conquered it.  Brian suspected another poisoning!  An unsolved mystery.   Regardless, he was happy, to say the least, to hear that all of his team was in good health. 
      To our amazement, as the sunrise developed, the mountain had cast a wide pyramid-shaped shadow over the desert to the Pacific, as the sun crept up from the east.   It was a beautiful experience, all in the purples and oranges that make up the desert light.   A spectacular 360 degree sunrise was all around us, as we ate our food.   The sparkling lights had given way to glowing red sky, and the two white trucks, merely dots in the desert, were once again visible.   Beyond the trucks, thick fog stretched on the Pacific shoreline for miles.   Brian, Keith and I sat awhile, taking notes, and photographs, captivated by the natural pyramid-shaped shadow of Tres Virgenes--the mountain we had come to climb. 
      With the heat coming on, Brian decided that if we were going to hike to the northeast ridge, we had better do it soon.   Descending through the eerie burned-out palmetto forest that lined the summit, we made our way through a maze of car-sized boulders.   Just meters away, a volcanic crater sat embedded in the mountain.   The summit crater was very small, hidden in dense brush to the south, and visible from the air.   While it was only 8:00, it was already warm out.
      We continued past the crater through the holly-like maltonia,  re-generating following the fire.   Scrambling atop a steep cliff, we reached the northeast ridge a few moments later.   No more than two meters wide at the top, we stood, literally, atop the desert.   Huge tracts of desert that were not visible from the summit were now in clear view.   Below us was Rancho Las Virgenes, a cattle ranch that works a dry lake bed below the volcanoes to the south. Santa Rosalia was visible farther down the coast.   La Reforma Caldera appeared in its true massive incarnation: a huge moat stretching from its south shore to its north shore. For Keith and I, it was our first glimpse of the mountain. 
      "It looks like we should be able to access both canyons by boat, fairly easily," said Brian. "An ocean approach should cut out a lot of hiking. It is worth a look, anyway."
      To the north, a small geothermal plant sits at the end of the only dirt road through the desert.   This is the same road that the ranger’s camp lies on.   Everything else, as far as the eye could see, is desert or sea.   Currents, twisting the blue waters in the Sea of Cortez’s deep channels, are visible.   Every now and then, a reflection from a jet aircraft above reminds us that this heavily used air corridor lies directly above an active volcano. 
      Peering through binoculars, Brian searches for roads, paths, anything that would help the team access La Reforma in May.   On the aerial photos and maps, the entire region shows only one tiny dirt road, now washed out at the caldera rim, impassible to vehicles.
      "In the desert, you think you see a road through your binoculars, but when you try to find them with the naked eye, they go away. One road, this side of  the geothermal plant, looks promising.   We will try to look at that later, with the vehicles," Hausback said.
      Vegetation is slowly growing back after the fire, and although there are bighorn sheep tracks around, none of the animals are visible in the still, windless landscape.   To the south, on the coast a plume of dust from the gypsum mine hazes along the shoreline.  With no other new roads in sight, Dr. Hausback decides it is best that we retreat to base camp.  After breaking our summit camp and taking several pictures, we ready ourselves for the hike back.  Brian was in deep thought--perhaps from the size of La Reforma and the lack of access to the mountain.  Keith was in his usually high spirits, still studying the sun and its shadow tricks.  I was anxious to reach the trucks and more water. 
      While we were packing, Chris Farrar had plotted a new and more direct route down the mountain, using his binoculars.   This way, he assured us, we would not have to go back through the boulder-strewn canyon.   Using a signal mirror that Keith had in his pack, and our radios, Chris and Sergio guided us down from the summit, then the false summit, through a hazardous cliff band, a cactus forest and finally to a sandy wash that would lead us to the vehicles.   Essentially, we would flash our mirror at base camp every ten or so minutes, and they would direct us through the obstacles.   The new route saved us a lot of technical scrambling, and at least an hour of additional hiking. 
      At the base of the mountain, Brian radioed his thanks to Chris for the keen route finding, then he, Keith and I sat in the shade of an ocatillo tree for a quick snack before the final stretch to the trucks.
      "This is classic--around us is every type of cactus--sticky and friendly: long cholla, short cholla, barrel cactus, ocatillo--all within twenty feet of each other. Incredible."   Brian said, writing notes in his journal. 
      Behind us Tres Virgenes loomed above, the gravely scree slope now behind us, the sandy wash ahead.  Back at the trucks, Chris and Sergio had prepared steak fajitas, with fire seared tortillas.   We cleaned off and relished the food as we watched the sun set on the volcano. 
      At about 7:30 p.m., the sound of a truck approaching made us start.   A late model Toyota pickup, with two men in the front and two in the back pulled up.   They were game wardens hired by the newly formed "El Vizcaino" Biosphere Reserve, the largest protected area in Mexico.   The reserve’s 6 million acres (2,546.79 hectares) stretch from the Pacific Ocean to the Sea of Cortez, and contain several mountainous areas, including Tres Virgenes and La Reforma.   The reserve is home to the rare borrego cimarron (desert bighorn sheep), golden eagles and the few remaining endangered peninsular berrendo, or pronghorn deer.   Within its boundaries also live roughly 35,000 people, most of which live in the towns of San Ignacio and Santa Rosalia.
      The reserve was established November 1988 through the "Man and Biosphere" (MAB) program of UNESCO.   In 1996, a conservation management program for the desert bighorn sheep was created.  The area is now closely monitored by these rangers.  After a lengthy interview and a thorough search, they determined that we were not there to hunt and departed, but not before letting us know we had ascended "the hard way."   That night, the air temperature dropped quickly, and we all slept soundly, with the hike complete. 

      Due to the lack of vehicle access to the mountain, La Reforma is even more remote than Tres Virgenes.   To get to the mountain, you must walk or ride horses many miles through the desert.   When you reach the mountain, there is no water to speak of, anywhere, except for the saline Sea of Cortez.   This area, like Tres Virgenes, remains one of the last strongholds of the desert bighorn sheep. 
      Brian decided that we would first check the coastline for access to the volcano, then later drive to the caldera rim’s west side and explore roads there.   Our single goal would be to locate points of access for the May trip.   Our first outing would begin in the harbor at Santa Rosalia, where we chartered a ride from a fisherman named Angel, to our destination.