Every so often, I like to remind everyone of our late friend's many colorful stories he posted on Amigos de Baja and here on Baja Nomad before he died
in late 2006.
Mike examines a cholla at Las Flores, July 4, 2001BigBearRider - 6-1-2018 at 09:24 AM
What a treasure trove. I have the book. Started reading it a while ago, and will pick it up again.David K - 6-1-2018 at 09:40 AM
Indeed, and there is a ton more stories from Mike (not in the book) at the link I posted above. Enjoy!!!
Here was our final visit with Mike at their home in Baja (and Mary Ann, who is still at their home in Baja):
October 2005.
We saw Mike again signing his book at the 2006 Pyramid Resort Book Event:
May 2006
His dream of being published came true. In just 6 months, he was gone. Live life to its fullest, as it can be over far too soon!
[Edited on 6-1-2018 by David K]JZ - 6-1-2018 at 11:37 AM
I only read one, but it was a complete mess. A tremendous amount of unnecessary hand wringing.
I'll pass on the rest if they are anything like it.
April 14, 2006
Mary Ann - just a short note.
I passed by Bahia de Los Angeles yesterday. I decided to go out to La Gringa and ended up spending a week there. It's has really changed since we
were last here. I remember La Gringa from her simpler days, the days before her contemporary, high rise hotels were built, towering into her backdrop
of blue sea and sky; before they broke up the tan landscapes looking west across the thin peninsula, where no one came. I remember the sand, south of
Roberto's hut - the only permanent structure then - sand for miles; the myriad stingrays that idled and played there in the warm shallows. This was,
of course, well before they built the first of the many piers that now house the hundreds of shops and restaurants that draw so many of us here today.
Now we have a nice collection of tennis courts and lawn bowling instead of the open desert.
The bay was so quiet in those years. We listened to the gulls and pelicans working bait all night long. We were often the only ones here, for
miles. The dolphin and seals patrolled a shore so pristine the sun's reflection was as bright and pure as the sun itself. Now, the bay is so full of
docks, moorings, boats and ships that you can hardly see the water at all.
This morning I disposed of two dead pelicans from the tiny strip of sand that has yet to become populated with some other tourist attraction - the
last open 25 feet of beachline on the entire bay. The Great Grey Herons that once lived in the lagoon, the egrets are gone. A parking lot leveled and
filled that tiny void. The green reeds and delicate water plants that were here have been replaced by curbed and manicured planters housing fichus
that can, ignored by man, survive the heat. The old dirt road that used to lead northward to Las Cuevitas is now an international airport, bringing
the thousands of visitors here weekly from the north and east. It is quite an accomplishment. La Gringa has become the new Cabo.
It's quite realistic, really; it's much closer to the border by car or by plane than the cape. And the money has been rolling in since the
development was begun, just a year or two ago. Property values are through the roof. The place is really thriving. Remember back, in the early
mornings, when the tide was out, we used to sit alone, just here, and inhale the sweet smell of seaweed, drying on the stones? Now in the morning we
are treated to the oily stench of breakfasts, prepared for thousands, and to the rancid dankness of diesel from the hundreds of boats that pull in or
out throughout the day. It's a good thing there's often a strong breeze here; else the fumes would choke a horse.
The La Gringa spit, where we used to walk, arm-in-arm, collecting small shells, is still here, of course. They've built a concrete breakwater that
is much tougher than the natural gravel bar that had served for so long. The breakwater, like the piers along the beach, is packed with tourist
businesses. It's rather nice, from either the beach or the breakwater you can look toward the other front and, in the evenings, see the thousand
lights, strung along the waterfront, reflecting off the ocean, when you can catch a glimpse of it. The Mariachi's play in the small streets until
midnight. After that the discos rule, loud throbbing and raw music pulsing off the dance floor, out the open windows and into the night air where
previously we had camped on smooth round stones, just north of the old pier. There was never a sound in those days except a few lapping melodies
caused as the small waves raked the stones. Back then we went to bed early, sweethearts, children, friends. Only a few of us endured the hardships of
the myriad stars and satellites. Now, with all the new activities, I am the one finding an early bedtime. Speaking of which . . . On the way back to
my room on the tenth floor of the La Gringa Ritz-Carlton I spotted a single pelican, squatting alone, along an unattended place on one of the
boardwalks. He wasn't supposed to be there, the folks here don't like the messes they make. Doesn't he know he not supposed to be there? Doesn't he
know his place in the order of things?
I'll be home soon.
All my love,
Michael BajaBlanca - 6-1-2018 at 12:21 PM
We also have the book and I am going to reread it.Marc - 6-1-2018 at 12:34 PM
Is the book available at the BOLA museum? David K - 6-1-2018 at 12:49 PM
JZ, This was a fictional story in light of the Escalera Nautica planned there. He wrote it as if from a future time to his wife. Mike also was a
software writer for spacecraft, working for JPL in Pasadena.
[Edited on 6-1-2018 by David K]David K - 6-1-2018 at 12:51 PM
JZ, This was a fictional story in light of the Escalera Nautica planned there. He wrote it as if from a future time to his wife.
Yes, and Mike wrote a lot of beautiful and poignant stories that captured the landscape, the people, and the magic of Baja -- where he spent more time
than most and where he passed away and is buried. He also documented his own life, his thinking, and his philosophical evolution. He was a
thoughtful and considerate participant in the early years of this board and before it on the Amigos board, and I regret not taking the opportunity to
meet him in person.
Mike put himself and his creative impulse out there, which is not an easy thing to do. I would consider more than one five-paragraph story that it
took all of two minutes to read before I would purport to publicly criticize his (or anyone else's) writing in a post that might dissuade others from
exploring that writing themselves. Reasonable minds can of course properly differ, as long as they're fully informed.Marc - 6-1-2018 at 04:46 PM
I read his stories on the Fred Metcalf board. Wow must be 18 or so years ago. I would have liked to meet Mike, as I was down there often back then.
I think Fred's site is no longer up. David K - 6-1-2018 at 05:04 PM
Hi Marc,
Fred's website is there and in it is the link to Mike's stories (what I posted above)... there are other pages still linked, but most are no longer.
Here is Fred's site: http://math.ucr.edu/ftm/baja.html
JZ, This was a fictional story in light of the Escalera Nautica planned there. He wrote it as if from a future time to his wife. Mike also was a
software writer for spacecraft, working for JPL in Pasadena.
[Edited on 6-1-2018 by David K]
Yeah, I get that. Didn't care for it. Anyone who knows boating and Baja knows that project had .00001% chance of succeeding.
[Edited on 6-2-2018 by JZ]BeemerDan - 6-1-2018 at 07:25 PM
JZ has a short attention span, Comic books are more his style I'm sure.JZ - 6-1-2018 at 07:53 PM
JZ has a short attention span, Comic books are more his style I'm sure.
I'll read some more, but that was a huge turnoff as an intro.
I went in expecting a good story about BoLA and got some dude crying about the some super exaggerated future state. David K - 6-2-2018 at 09:49 AM
JZ, you picked a story out of the middle, in a series he did about Escalera Nautica. His book chapters are real-life stories from Bahia de los
Angeles, and are in the list of articles I posted. Most are L.A. Bay centered and not fiction. That you picked that one to post here and criticize is
sure a wonder?
That would be like if I started a road log at Rancho Grande rather than Mexicali... So how do you get to Rancho Grande...? Same with Mike's stories...
How did you get to a future La Gringa with hotels and marinas? Start at the beginning or at least at the beginning of a series.
Give Mike another chance, he was a wonderful human who preferred to fit in while in Mexico rather than stand out. He drove a beat up 2WD pickup called
POT (Poor Old Truck) as he had ideas about feeling guilt for his position in life and wanted to appear poor to the locals.
His writing, while not my style, had a lot of color... maybe a few too many adjectives, but contains life.
