M
Nomad
Posts: 392
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: Laguna Niguel, CA.
Member Is Offline
Mood: looking for joy...
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Here is a rogue wave for you Stephanie
In the springtime of 1995, I was floored by a nasty case of Pneumonia. Holed up in my Laguna Beach Cottage, I listened to the waves and gulls while
feeling pretty sorry for myself. Worse, my mother who lived less than 10 miles away was being a little aggressive with her nursing skills. God love
her, but her fussing and food forcing was exhausting, and I really just needed to climb in a hole for awhile. After one particularly obnoxious visit,
where my lifestyle was cursed, my diet was damned, and my constant ?gallivanting? was going to be the death of me yet, I figured she was probably
right, and I might as well do my dying in Baja.
?Grunt? my one-ton Chevy van was always packed to go. I had a dresser in there that held clothes, food, tackle, poles hung from the ceiling, firewood
in the back, machete, anything and everything I had needed and refined from the ages going down there. I could, and often did just jump in and go.
I had not been fishing for 3 weeks, springtime was impossibly gorgeous and I could see in my minds eye that the flowers in Baja would be busting out
everywhere. I needed my boat. The only bother I had was getting my 79lb. Porta Bote up to the top of my jacked up van, also the little Tohatsu 5HP
motor. Lord I was weak, but mom said she would be back that evening with split pea soup, and I NEEDED to GO!
What normally was an easy task for me took 2 hours but I did it, and cats fed and note on the door, I was heading South.
On my way down, I felt woozy from my efforts and wondered if maybe I had blown it. I pictured mom?s wrath on my return, and even entertained fantasies
of authorities finding my lifeless body in the bottom of my drifting boat, pole in hand. I was feeling pitifully sorry for myself.
I crossed the border and cheered up immensely when I saw the Pacific and Cliffs and flowers from the toll road right before Ensenada. I needed no
supplies so I drove to Punta Banda, stopped in at Fred Hoctors and told him I would be camping down at the ramp and check in if he didn?t see me in
two days.
I?m really taking liberties when I call this place a boat ramp. It serves the locals OK, and little toy boats like mine, but at low tide it is
full-blown boulders and breakers. First thing, I needed was a graham cracker and a nappy. I dove to the back of Grunt, snuggled into my eggcrate and
drifted off. I woke to near darkness and the sounds of children. Pulling myself up to the window to peek out, I came face to face with a curious
fellow who was straining for a peek through my limo tinted windows. When he focused on my face not 2 inches from his, he fell back in surprise, and I
fell back laughing so hard my lungs went into hacking spasms. I grabbed the side door handle to get out and sort of rolled out of Grunt still hacking
like a 90 year old 3 pack a day smoker. I must have looked lovely. The children took off running down the beach, and the father wasn?t looking so good
himself. He looked TOTALLY worried. #1 He was caught snooping. #2 He was pretty sure I was going to die right on the spot leaving him with a gringa
body to explain. Once we both recovered a little I found out that he and his family collect snails at low tide. I tried eating one once and despite
considerable chewing, I never made a dent. I was told that his brother had Lobster traps not far off shore, but I couldn?t see the floats. He said
that because of thieves, he leaves off the floats, and when it is time to check the traps he or other friends or family go to the top of the cliffs
and spot the traps for the Pangas.
We talked for awhile and the kids finally returned with a full sack of snails, but I still looked suspect and they never gave me a chance to meet
them. Ah well.
After they left, I realized I was starving. I rummaged through Grunt and came up with Canned Spaghetti and a mystery can with no label. I opened the
mystery can first. Kidney beans. I learned that what usually looks yucky in my pantry at home, is usually good tucker in Baja, and this was a good
example of that. They were delicious, and I also finished half a can of cold spaghetti, saving the rest for breakfast.
I closed Grunt up for the night, rigged a couple poles, settled down with a Dean Koontz novel and soon drifted off to sleep. The next day, I would
later learn would be the worst day ever of my Baja adventures.
I awoke to sounds of gulls screeching, and peeking out my window, I saw two large gulls in a tug of war with an unknown piece of something or other. I
watched for awhile before I realized that the pounding surf I fell asleep too was now replaced by lapping waves. Perfect, tide was in and it was time
to get my little Tinker Toy boat ready.
I rummaged around in my drawers for a change of garb, and came up with a one piece Terri cloth number with a sort of tube top to it so I wouldn?t have
tan marks on my shoulders. I cursed myself for forgetting to bring a change of knickers, but I have gone without before, so it was hardly a problem.
I jumped out of Grunt and felt terrific! Blue sky, salt air, going fishing, and I actually felt my lungs were a little clearer. About time, so I lit a
cigarette and started unloading.
For those that have never seen one, a Porta Bote is a folding device, held open by the successful placement of 3 bench seats. This is not as easy as
it seems, and some may have seen some more hilarious attempts on Americas Funniest Videos. It takes a knack learned over trial and error, and not
before considerable bruising and possible consumption of yourself in the bowels of the beast as it firmly folds over you. The advantage to the
creature is that it is unsinkable. The dealer at the Long Beach boat show told me that the Japanese Navy uses them for lifeboats. Well hell, that was
good enough for me, but latter I wondered just how successful those Japanese fellows would be trying to set these things right while their ship was
sinking. No matter, even folded flat these things float, and I bet the Japanese Navy is fine with that.
I pulled her down from the roof and dragged her over the gravel toward the water. I noticed at the top of the cliffs my efforts were being observed by
a lone fellow who seemed pretty interested in what I was doing. I imagine the whole scene to him was pretty amazing, considering I was a girl, in a
monster truck, alone dragging a long flat white thing towards the water. I left him to his observations and went for the boards that would become by
seats.
The first step is to straddle the boat, and while stepping on one side, you lift the top far flap enough to get your foot inside to hold it up. Using
both hands, you pull like hell to get the inside flap up. It SORT of resembles something of a boat at this point, but?. This is the VERY critical
point. If you release pressure on it at all, it will knock your feet out from under you and swallow you whole. In my weakened condition I was grateful
for the watcher above should I need emergency evacuation.
I reached out, grabbed the center seat and slid it into place. Victory! The other two went easily enough and glancing up at the watcher I found his
mouth hanging open in surprise. Obviously, he had never seen a boat like this?.or, perhaps he was shocked at my less than ladylike postures during my
efforts. Whatever, I really didn?t care.
I finished off my cold can of spaghetti, and drank another couple cups of totally stale water that had been residing in Grunt the last few weeks. Next
came the motor. My step-father had welded for me a motor mount on the inside of Grunt, and I was pretty happy with it. I could pull the rack out and
hang the motor on it, fill a 5-gallon bucket and run fresh water through my motor. Did in a pinch when a hose wasn?t around.
I hoisted the motor over and clamped it on to the back of my little boat. The watcher above kept watching and I kept working.
Next in, I tossed my camera, radio, book, glasses, my pack of sure fire killer, wiggley plastics, a few irons and some bits of green scrubby in case I
ran into any perch. I hauled out my fishfinder, and glory be, the batteries were still good. I hooked up the transponder on my stabilizer flaps, and
tossed the rest of the unit into the bottom of the boat. I looked around for anything else I might need and decided to take the piece of plywood I cut
down to fit over the seats so I could lie down. I tossed in a couple sodas, another can of something or other and then brought out my poles. These
poles are pretty much my trademarks, as I built and wrapped them myself. First thing, they had to be pink. Then, fancy wraps, feathers, lace and any
other obnoxious combination that make them a quick grab on the long row of rods on a long ranger. Those who have been on a long ranger in a hot bite
know EXACTLY the importance of grabbing the right rod with the right string, and of course making sure it is even yours since so many look alike. I
settled on a my hot pink jig stick with black lace and peac-ck feathers, my purple trout rig with inlayed rainbow beads, and a standard can do
anything lavender lace pole with a wrap that took me MONTHS. Satisfied I had all I needed for a luxury day of sun and fishing, I locked Grunt and
headed toward the water. I wasn?t worried a wit about Grunt, the fellow last night said he would look after it and tell his family also. I believed
him as I believed others in the past, and I have never had reason to regret.
I pushed my toy boat into the water while Fisher Price playtime music played in my head. I popped my Bob Marley tape in and drove out the annoying
ditty with ? Red Red Wine?. The water was glass, and the tide was high, perfect conditions and I was in heaven. Even my occasional hacking didn?t drop
my mood. (Did I remember my smokes?)I massaged my fuel bulb for awhile and getting a grip, gave my little motor a yank. A couple more tries and she
was purring as usual. I pushed out, jumped in and dropped my prop into the water. As I headed out swaying to the beat of Marley, I looked up and saw
the watcher still looking. As I rounded a curve, I looked again, and just saw his arm come up and wave to me as I went out of view. I hoped he saw me
wave back. I headed South. I continued putting in my Porta and scouted out little coves, occasionally I tossed a plastic, half-heartedly since I was
more interested in the view around me. Lord it was glorious, and the sky was clear and so blue. I drifted close to a couple large rocks and could see
small abalone just below the water line. I continued on about another mile or so and went out towards a promising kelp bed. The current was pretty
gentle and the kelp just drifted straight up towards the sun. Down deep, I could see the fish darting around but none that really interested me. I
decided to put a heavy head on a plastic motor oil minnow and send it to the bottom. I yanked it around for a bit and then cranked it back. I got a
hit, and checking the plastic, the tail was nipped but still functional. I sent it down a dozen more times and finally found something that wanted to
play with me. I was using my trout rig with 4lb test. I often do when I want a little more of a challenge. It fought like a yellowtail, and I loosened
my drag so it wouldn?t pop my line. We went round and round and I had a grand time until finally worn down, coming up from the depths?.a mackerel. A
smallish one at that. I shook him off my hook thoroughly enjoying myself. When you don?t care if you land them, lighten your gear to near zero and
almost any creature becomes a challenge. I moved to the South end of the bed and ?anchored? my boat. Anchoring a Porta Bote means tying down to a
piece of kelp with a bungie cord. I checked my transponder and found it still sucked down on my stabilizer. Turning on my fish finder, I zeroed it out
and slowly watched the bottom come into focus. I saw clouds drift through that were probably minnows, a loud beep signaled a larger fish passing
under. Or not. I was mostly interested in the picture of the bottom and what structures were below me.Happy with my findings, I cranked up Marley and
sent down an iron on my lavender pole. Blue/white is a favorite on a clear day, and within minutes I had a little wiggler on the end. A Sculpin.
Shoot!In my big boat box,not with me, I carry an odd item. A syringe and Lanocain. If ever hit by a stingray, or stung by a Sculpin you could
immediately appreciate the sense of this. I made a new best friend on the Ensenada Clipper one time when a deckhand was poked hard by a Sculpin. He
was in agony, and didn?t seem too concerned when he saw me walking towards him with a syringe. I numbed his hand up and he was considerably more
comfortable. Also, I had an occasion to sew my foot up when I laid it open on a busted bottle once down near Loreto. Graham was with me and I thought
he was going to faint.
Anyway, unless I have a deck to stomp a Sculpin, I usually don?t like to muck with them especially sans my Lanocain. I grabbed my dykes and tried to
grab the shank of my jig while the little creep was flipping wildly. Carefully, I shook him loose and watched him high tail it toward the bottom.
Enough of the bottom, I brought out my trout rig, tied on a light plastic, laid down across my seats and just flipped that plastic anywhere. The sun
was gently warming, the lapping of the waves, the rocking of the boat, I was soon out cold.
I woke a couple hours later stiff, cold and sunburned. I had enough my first day out and thought of spending the rest of the day finishing my Koontz
novel.
I started my motor and slowly motored back. The wind had picked up and I was freezing. My little Terri cloth outfit sure was no help. As I rounded the
corner back towards the ramp, my heart stopped. The lapping glassy cove was now roaring with breakers. Gone was the narrow edge of sand and only mean
slimy sharp rocks were to be seen. Waves crashed in and only just covered the rocks. I was in real trouble. I never checked my chart, I thought the
tide was on its upswing, but it was going out looking up on the cliffs I noticed my watcher. He brought friends, and they were just watching too.
Tomorrow fini, I promise. Michelle
I circled around a few times and backed off the swells. The only thing I could do was count the waves and find a pattern. I glanced at the watchers
above and counted. Still six of them. I wondered if rescue would come from that group, but, there was nothing they could do. I continued my wave count
and shivered from the cold and fear. I figured every seventh wave was higher and covered the rocks. There were 2 large rocks that were close enough
together that the waves rose higher, and it would be there that I would have to make my entrance. The sets were long, so I would need to get a good
running start at it, lift my motor and grind over the rocks on the other side. At least it would put me in far enough that I could jump out and grab
the bow before it was sucked back. This was the plan, and if I hadn?t been freezing, and recovering from pneumonia, I would have chucked it all, tied
myself to the kelp and waited for high tide again.
I glanced up and hoped to find at least one less pair of eyes watching this show, but there were still six, and they seemed transfixed. No heroes in
that bunch. This was the best show on the block.
I was convinced I needed to go on the seventh wave and was just making my move, when a side swell came in out of nowhere. It rose a good four feet
combined with the regular set and the wave broke seriously. Oh?this was not good at all. So, we had sneaker waves to deal with. I pulled back again
and circled, counting, then counting again. Occasionally, side waves came in but they had no rhythm or reason and I couldn?t get a fix on them. Or, I
was just too stupid to do the math. I circled for another 20 minutes, glanced up to my watchers, gave them a wave and a stupid ?no problem? grin and
gunned my little Tohatsu to catch that wave that should carry me in.
I thought I was really making progress and the two large rocks were coming up fast, I reached back to flip the lever that would raise my motor, but
suddenly I dropped, like an elevator and I could feel the rocks on the bottom of the boat. From the corner of my eye I saw light change, and turning
my head, I came face to face with a wall of water. In slow motion, the lip of the wave curled and my seat was going up sideways as my little boat was
sucked into it?s grip. What happened in an instant took forever in my mind and I watched in detail as the wave broke into my boat. The camera, radio
and book were sucked out the other side, and I was neatly flipped upside down under the boat and onto the rocks. Cruel, slimy rocks. I felt no pain,
but shock from the cold water. I was aware of my boat being tossed over me and prayed that the dead man switch on my motor worked. I always tied it to
my ankle, but we rolled together and I wasn?t sure if it pulled the kill button. Time slowed down so much I had time to think about what a prop could
do to me and I would never feel a thing.
We rolled for what seemed an eternity and finally, I came to rest on the rocks. My boat was on it?s way out, and I didn?t care a lick. I was totally
naked.
Soaked with water, that one piece Terri cloth outfit slipped off neatly. I didn?t take the time to take stock of my injuries, just struggled and
slipped over rocks until I could get up onto the sand. I didn?t dare look up to the witnesses on the cliffs, instead I pictured in my mind them
rolling on the ground, wetting themselves with their mirth. I did a quick look over of my extremities and was at least satisfied I had all my parts,
at least they were all there to see. For EVERYBODY to see. I was a little bloodied perhaps, but intact none the less. I ran over to Grunt, and flung
myself at the door. Locked. I had a key under the plate that I could remove with a dime, but I didn?t seem to have one at the moment. gosh darnN IT! I
was frantic and tore at every door and window, my last hope, was cracked. A wind wing. I left it open to flick my ashes. This is an odd twist that
smoking should ever do anything GOOD for me. I pushed it open and strained for the lock. No good, I could reach it but just not enough to flick it up.
I looked around, bawling in my frustration. On the ground I spotted a piece of metal. Just the right size and strength. I pushed it in and voila?, I
was in. Grunt was gloriously warm from the sun, and it felt fabulous! No time to enjoy, it was business time now. I threw on a pair of shorts and a
sweat-shirt. I found one tennis shoe, couldn?t find the other. Hell with it, with one foot shod, I headed back to the water to see what remained. My
little tinker toy was upside down, prop in the air, riding in ,going out, riding in, soon, it may go out for good, so I ran back to Grunt for a rope.
I waded in and slid over those nasty rocks until I could get a grip on the bow. Lifting, I dragged her in a little bit, but that motor had to go. I
tied a rope to the center seat of by boat and ran back up and attached it to Grunt?s bumper.
Returning, I was able to reach under and unscrew the motor mounts. My Tahatsu clattered onto the rocks, and I was sure this little escapade was going
to be fatal for my little motor. I was exhausted and the motor was a good 75lbs. I considered leaving it, but hey, it had less than a hundred hours on
it. I reached down, and hoisted her up. If adrenaline failed me now I would be a goner. I slipped and crashed a number of times adding injury to my
already torn body before I finally dropped it onto the sand. I looked back out to my boat and doubted I could carry her in. Whatever the damage, I had
one option. I walked back to Grunt, started my engine and backed her up. Slowly, my little boat moved forward but, caught on a rock, it would go no
farther. CRAP! Out of the van, I stalked back down to the water and began once again a perilous journey over those nasty rocks. I looked up and there
were still six eyes watching. Good lord this must be a good show for them not to be doing SOMETHING.
I grabbed the back of my Porta and noticed that my transponder was still sucked onto my stabilizer, I followed the wire and found the end. Nothing. I
wanted a new fish finder anyway. I flipped the boat over and headed back to Grunt. Once again we moved backwards until Porta rested on the sand next
to my motor. And there they sat. I never even looked for my poles or other gear. Didn?t care, just wanted to pile into my eggcrate mattress and soak
up the heat inside my van. I was too humiliated to think of finding help, or speaking to those that witnessed such a spectacle. I laid there and
imagined, they might be just as embarrassed?but more likely amused. I wanted to get out of there before the story got out, as it surely would, but
before I could move, I fell into a deep sleep.
Again I woke to children?s voices. I glanced at my window and noticed something leaning against my windows?..poles? MY poles? I shook myself awake and
cracked the side door. On the ground were my camera and radio. A total loss, but there none the less. I was more bothered that I wouldn?t know the
ending of my Koontz novel. I looked up to see the smallest of the 2 boys I saw the day before shyly coming towards me. He handed me my glasses and ran
back towards the rocks.
No doubt word was out and I only wanted out of there. I closed up Grunt and watched the scene through my limo windows. The children went back to
gathering snails, but where was my boat? My motor???
I dove to the front window and looked out. In front of Grunt, my boat was folded up, seats stacked next to it. My motor was propped up onto rocks to
keep it out of the sand. Someone had wiped it down. My gas can and broken fuel line sat beside all.
Bruised, covered with dry blood and a hairstyle that must have looked just fabulous, I left Grunt once again to look for my helpers. Only the kids
were there, but at the top of the cliff I saw the father. I waved and he waved back. I thought he might come down, but he never did. When the kids
started to leave, I gave each one a twenty. I was crying like a fool and I think I scared them.
I loaded Grunt as quick as I could. I was feeling every bruise and ache and I started hacking again. No doubt I would totally relapse with Pneumonia.
So, until then, I lit a cigarette and worked on cleaning myself up. Finally alone, I went behind Grunt, undressed and poured the last of the water
into a bucket, it was still warm from the day and I felt a bit better after washing the owies.I poured the rest over my salty head.
I was ready to go. I maneuvered Grunt around and drove up the hill and out onto the highway. On my way towards the border, I ran stories and excuses
over in my head. None were any good. I was an idiot, I should have never left being so sick. I should have looked at my tide chart, I should never
have fallen asleep. I continued to beat myself up, and it seemed proper that I should be so miserable. I had no choice but to listen to whatever
tirade was coming from my family and friends. I deserved it. As a matter of fact, if Hare Krishna?s came to my door to deliver their spiel, I would
probably just stand there and listen to them, such was my self punishment.
I made it across the border with some curious looks from the border guys, but they let me through. I was in a daze, and Grunt was on auto pilot. When
I came out of it, I was home.
I did indeed get all that I deserved. My mother was merciless. My body hurt everywhere. I looked like I had been beaten and was too embarrassed to go
out of my home. My cats were indifferent, thankless beasts.
In three weeks time, I was crossing the border line again, my mishaps a distant memory? Until now.
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Ski Baja
Senior Nomad
Posts: 652
Registered: 8-19-2003
Location: Rosarito Beach
Member Is Offline
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Wow
Damn girl, that is one of the most impressive stories I have ever heard. Especially the ending ! You can put your boat on top of my van anytime.
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jeans
Super Nomad
Posts: 1059
Registered: 9-16-2002
Member Is Offline
Mood: Encantada
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Thanks, M!
That was an entertaining now as it was the first time I read it!
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David K
Honored Nomad
Posts: 64493
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: San Diego County
Member Is Offline
Mood: Have Baja Fever
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See Michelle and Grunt...
Michelle first came to the Amigos board with a question about some mysterious happenings at El Tomatal, Baja's E.T. Here are M's photos that were
saved before Grunt burned to the ground with M almost not escaping! http://davidksbaja.com/et
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Skeet/Loreto
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4709
Registered: 9-2-2003
Member Is Offline
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WoW! What a Lady. It woild be a great pleasure to buy you a Beer.Thanks Skeet/Loreto
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Keri
Super Nomad
Posts: 1393
Registered: 10-31-2002
Location: La Mision, Baja Norte
Member Is Offline
Mood: muy contento
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classic
Absolutley fantastic. Thats the kind of stories that make these boards worth reading. My hats off to you M, Great story . Thanks for sharing
again,k
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M
Nomad
Posts: 392
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: Laguna Niguel, CA.
Member Is Offline
Mood: looking for joy...
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It wasb't so fun then
But I drag it out every year or so to get a good laugh.. Glad you enjoyed it everybody.
M
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Baja Red
Junior Nomad
Posts: 80
Registered: 9-2-2003
Member Is Offline
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Michelle the Survivor and a little crazy!!
What a great story! I am with Skeet...Pacifico or ? This is what the board is all about. More of us should share our stories. My father in law told
me 20 years ago on my first trip to Baja that every trip was an experience. That has held sooooo true so far to this date! Keep the stories coming!
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elgatoloco
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4323
Registered: 11-19-2002
Location: Yes
Member Is Offline
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M , thanks for dragging it out, again!!!!
MAGA
Making Attorneys Get Attorneys
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M
Nomad
Posts: 392
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: Laguna Niguel, CA.
Member Is Offline
Mood: looking for joy...
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To Skeet & Red
LOLOL. Would love to take you up on your offer of a cold beer! However, I don't drink at all. Jeez, look at the trouble I got into while SOBER. When
drunk I could easily be found naked dancing on the table while rasping out 'puppy love'. I had a great time long long ago with Fred Hoctor. I brought
over 10 lobsters, he broke out some fine tequila and we howled at the moon and laughed our silly asses off. Thank God Sylvia wasn't home, no dount she
would have hauled off and clobbered me with the whale bone they kept on their porch. Lord, I was always nuts but add booze and I am intolerable. My
life is much better, I can see straight and usually remember what I said. BIG HUGS to all... how bout a cola instead? M
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Debra
Super Nomad
Posts: 2101
Registered: 10-31-2002
Location: Port Orchard Wa./Bahia de Los Angeles BC
Member Is Offline
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That's our "M"........BBB! (bad Baja broad)
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GeoRock
Nomad
Posts: 329
Registered: 3-7-2003
Location: Mammoth Lakes, CA
Member Is Offline
Mood: Always have one
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M, I am more impressed than ever after reading your very entertaining story. You give new meaning to the term, "buck up" (to the occasion)!!!
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Baja Red
Junior Nomad
Posts: 80
Registered: 9-2-2003
Member Is Offline
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Dancing Days
M...sorry that I missed your "dancing and tequila days"!! However I am with you on the remembering and not having to worry about what you said to
whom. I have discovered my limits!! I would love to go fishing with you...in a bigger boat...with a captain and crew...and a tide chart!! Keep the
stories coming. I will have to print one of mine soon. B.R.
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Skeet/Loreto
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4709
Registered: 9-2-2003
Member Is Offline
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M. Isn't Great to be so alive every morning of the new Day!
Somtimes my heart aches for those poor souls who arise in the morning after a bad nite and look at the world through Dark Glasses.
Even after that Long Stent I can still Dance with the Pretty Ladies!! Skeet/Loreto
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Natalie Ann
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 2819
Registered: 8-22-2003
Location: Berkeley
Member Is Offline
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Outstanding story, M -
I, too, am glad you dragged it out again this year.
Be yourself, everyone else is already taken.
.....Oscar Wilde
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M
Nomad
Posts: 392
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: Laguna Niguel, CA.
Member Is Offline
Mood: looking for joy...
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Another 4 days without computer
My NEW (5 mo.) computer got whacked AGAIN by a virus I ran across on some site RE building web pages (sneaky B**tards). GOOD TO BE BACK ONLINE!
however, now I have to re-load everything again. Thanks for all the great comments. M
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elgatoloco
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4323
Registered: 11-19-2002
Location: Yes
Member Is Offline
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http://us.mcafee.com/root/vso_virusalert.asp?cid=8953
MAGA
Making Attorneys Get Attorneys
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frizkie
Nomad
Posts: 293
Registered: 9-29-2003
Location: Victoria, BC, Canada & El Chorro, Baja Sur
Member Is Offline
Mood: tranquilo
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Michelle
Thanx bunches for sharing this terrific story. WOW!! Whata girl!! I'll be dipping my newly acquired Porta-Bote into the Sea of Cortes in about a
month and a half and I'll be thinking of you.
Hope I can be as worthy a Capitan
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