M
Nomad
Posts: 392
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: Laguna Niguel, CA.
Member Is Offline
Mood: looking for joy...
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The Porta Bote Story.
Every couple of years people remembe,r then request that I trot out the Porta Bote story again. At a time like this maybe a little laugh will be
appreciated. I have broken it down so it won't be a chore to read it all. I hope you enjoy,
M
In May 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 feeling pretty sorry for myself. Worse, my mother who
lived less than 10 miles away was being a little aggressive with
her nursing; 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.
Crap, I was weak, but mom said she would be back that
evening with split pea soup, and I NEEDED to GO!
What normally was a fast easy task, 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. Yeah,
right.
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 Hoctor?s 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 egg-crate mattress and drifted off to
the sounds of Baja Gulls. 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 and just 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 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 Porta
Botes still float, and I bet the Japanese Navy is just fine with
that.
I pulled Porta 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 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 stored 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.
PART 2 TOMORROW
M.
[Edited on 6-9-2006 by M]
[Edited on 8-9-2006 by M]
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Skipjack Joe
Elite Nomad
Posts: 8084
Registered: 7-12-2004
Location: Bahia Asuncion
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Unlabeled cans
Wonderful story! It's just what I needed to get my mind off work.
The unlabeled can reminded me of my camping experiences with a friend of mine many years ago. This guy was what you would describe as, uh ... frugal.
Before leaving for baja we divied up the chores: I would get the vehicle ready and buy all the gas and N. would buy all of the food provisions.
Well, a few days later we've set up camp around a campfire and we're ready to chow down. N. pulls out these shiny tins that he's bought and they all
look alike. "They were on sale at Safeway", he tells me. They're also all banged up and dented. I don't know how they got that way. Perhaps they fell
off the truck during delivery. N. assures me that it's just like buying real canned food but at a fraction of the cost.
All right, I guess. I'm envisioning a dinner of Spaghetios or ravioli or something. Some of that Chef Boyardee stuff, know what I mean. We open a can
and it's canned peaches. We open another and it's canned plums.
I was not pleased.
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Hook
Elite Nomad
Posts: 9006
Registered: 3-13-2004
Location: Sonora
Member Is Offline
Mood: Inquisitive
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My portabote and me are anxiously awaiting the next installment............I think? 
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Bajamatic
Senior Nomad
Posts: 571
Registered: 8-31-2006
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nice cliff hanger.....
yuletide
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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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I don't understand...
where all those question marks came from. Honestly, my editing doesn't suck THAT bad. I guess it was just an oddity from the cut/paste procedure.
Sorry.
M
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Karyn Ivie
Junior Nomad
Posts: 29
Registered: 2-1-2005
Member Is Offline
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Great Sory!!! Is it tomorrow yet?
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Marie-Rose
Senior Nomad
Posts: 894
Registered: 10-2-2003
Location: Victoria, B.C. and Todos Santos
Member Is Offline
Mood: Worried...
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Scroll down ... #2 is alrady there
Remember, when in Mexico, yes may be no and no may be
maybe!
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