Mike Humfreville
Super Nomad
Posts: 1148
Registered: 8-26-2003
Member Is Offline
|
|
Sycamores
It was late in the afternoon on a Saturday as we pulled out of La Gringa and wound down the road toward the village for gasoline and a beer on our way
north. Patricio was still standing ready at the pump with the nozzle and his calculator. We topped off, bought a couple of six-packs and accelerated
onto the asphalt ribbon winding north, climbing into the central desert. It was late in the day but that didn?t mean it was cool. We wound our
windows down and settled in for what we knew from many experiences was going to be a long drive, back to the border and beyond.
There were four of us I remember, but I?m not certain who. I know there was me, of course, and Geoff. And I think it was likely to have been Barsam
and John too. I know Geoff was there because he had given me an album that I always enjoyed, it was James Galway and a female opera singer. I think
her name is Martha Aldrich, or something like that and the album (it was a tape in those days) popped into and out of the player many times over the
week we had spent at La Gringa.
As my old tortuga ground her way up into the plateau of the central desert from Bahia de Los Angeles, dust flying and gears grinding, we were up for
the trip, planned to perhaps spend the evening in Ensenada and have a night on the town. But the desert was something to behold in the late
afternoon. There were storm clouds forming over the gulf, working their way northward, with an occasional blast of lightning and smaller swirls of
rain droplets scattered across our windshield. We drove on wondering but unafraid. We were held up momentarily at somewhere around San Ignacito,
where the usually dry watercourse crosses the highway there. But soon we were again without restraint and just four pals plugging through the desert
after a weeks fishing.
There is a small place in the route northbound on Mexico highway 1 that I have for some reason I?ve never understood just adopted in my mind as a
lovely spot. Its? somewhere between San Vicente and Santo Tomas I think, and a deep Sycamore-lined canyon falls to the west of the pavement and there
is often a small running stream. There are often cattle and goats there, and around the bend going northward a tiny ranch that advertised ?coco?s,?
had a number of them positioned on a folding card table as we passed by.
As we wound up the road through my little spot we were listening to the Galway album and the clouds were gathering and darkening as we were moving
northward. It seemed to me a moment frozen in time that I would carry forward forever; a place that the four of us visited, if only to travel through
and the others unknowing what this moment meant to me with the windows down, the music flowing and the great Sycamores settled seemingly forever in
their nests in the creekbed below.
That was so many years ago. Our lives have all changed now. We never stopped there. My friends never knew a picture would have been nice. We had
our music and memories. I guess we didn?t need yet another picture. So I guess it?s stuck here in my head. What better place?
|
|
|
BornFisher
Super Nomad
Posts: 2103
Registered: 1-11-2005
Location: K-38 Santa Martha/Encinitas
Member Is Offline
|
|
Mike--That`s a lotta distance starting in late afternoon from LA Bay. No wonder you didn`t stop. Happens I`ve stopped there many times-- a few times
to eat, a few times to relieve myself, a few times to let tailgaters get by, and once to let the hookers I picked up hitchhikeing in Maneadero smoke
something they brought along. Dilivered them to Bar de Valle in San Quentin where I watched them work the local workers for 10 pesos a dance. Don`t
remember all that happened to me, but I wound up having to trade one of my coolers for a bed at Tony and Josefinas`!!
A better place? Yeah there`s better ones-- but that place sure can trigger some memories!!!!!
|
|
|
elgatoloco
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4323
Registered: 11-19-2002
Location: Yes
Member Is Offline
|
|
Mike, thanks for the story.
'Sycamore Canyon' is a scenic spot and another unique part of Baja. I have read(in a book that is currently in storage) that the trees (encinos) were
planted by the missionaries returning south with seeds they acquired while traveling into California.
MAGA
Making Attorneys Get Attorneys
|
|
|
Eli
Super Nomad
Posts: 1471
Registered: 8-26-2003
Location: L.B. Baja Sur
Member Is Offline
Mood: Some times Observing, sometimes Oblivious.
|
|
Good story Mike,
How fortunate for all of us that you have that memory and have chosen to share it.
When I get all bumpy about this getting older stuff, well, I remember simple sweet stuff, and I feel blessed for the memories. Funny about which
memories stick with us, how the mention of one triggers memories of others. Memories is the gift that we carry with us always, that we can choose to
share or no mas dwell in them on our own, but no one can take them away from us.
|
|
|
Mike Humfreville
Super Nomad
Posts: 1148
Registered: 8-26-2003
Member Is Offline
|
|
After sitting there all night last night and trying to remember the name of the singer that accompanied Galway, I went to the local Barnes and Noble
today to ask. The album is no longer in print but it's available from Amazon as a used item. It's by Cleo Laine and James Galway and named
"Sometimes When We touch." A lisping lilty little thing that will always remind me of Geoff, my buddy from U.K. and the sycamores in the creekbed.
Thanks for your kind words.
|
|
|
Eli
Super Nomad
Posts: 1471
Registered: 8-26-2003
Location: L.B. Baja Sur
Member Is Offline
Mood: Some times Observing, sometimes Oblivious.
|
|
Ah yes, our memories, anything but perfect, but still, with their holes and all, they are precious stuff.
|
|
|
![[*]](images/xmbforum/default_icon.gif){kind=icon}
