Paulina
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3810
Registered: 8-31-2002
Location: BCN
Member Is Offline
|
|
I Know a Short Cut...
I Know a Short Cut!
The date was the last week of March 1996. Connor was 8 years old, his sister Cody had just celebrated her first birthday. My two children were secured
in the back seat of my truck, a red duel cab 4X4 Ford. The three of us were on a Spring break mission, heading to Bahia de Los Angeles for two weeks.
Rosie our Bullmastiff was in the back.
A day prior to heading south, a good friend and Punta Banda neighbor, Fred Hoctor had informed me of a situation in El Rosario. He suggested I give my
vacation location a second thought, and stay in Punta Banda. He had heard through the Baja grape vine that the road was closed in El Rosario and no
one was getting through. I must have missed his article in the Western Outdoor News. I assured him that by the time I got there the situation would
surely be resolved and I’d have no problem…
The line was quite long at the military checkpoint on the mesa above El Rosario. I pulled into my place, shut off the diesel motor and set ourselves
up for a wait. I was getting bored with the scenery, noticing very few vehicles heading north. Finally I saw a car slowly approaching, gesturing at
those in front of me to turn around. Seeing that, I already had my hand out the window, waving a greeting to meet theirs.
To my surprise the station wagon pulled to a dead stop. Sitting drivers door to door was a man who was probably as old and un kept as his car. In my
best estimate he had about 10 dogs with him, wagging their tails and all vying for the driver’s side window.
“Unless you turn around, you aren’t going anywhere tonight.” He informed me.
By my guess this gentleman was in his late 70’s, with long grey hair tucked under his army hat. What else he had along with him I could not surmise
as I saw nothing but dog fur.
Smiling, I leaned out my window asking what he meant by his statement. He informed me the highway in El Rosario had been closed. No one was going
north or south until the road crew paid. He advised that I either turn around and go home, or plan on spending a week or two in my truck.
I had already decided I was not going to be spending Spring break with two young children and a big dog, camping along the side of the road in El
Rosario.
Going back was not an option.
Giving this about 4 seconds of thought, I asked this gentleman, where he was coming from and how he got through the road block. With a huge somewhat
toothless smile, through a bushy moustache he proudly replied, “I know a short cut!”
Peaking my interest, with raised eyebrows I replied, “Really? Do you care to share it with me?”
He said, very seriously, “Lady, you have to have a really BIG set of balls.”
“Well,” I replied, “I may not have the big balls, but I do happen to have a big truck!”
We met eye to eye and I knew that I had passed his test.
When my turn came, I finally made my way down the grade, past the Pemex, and pulled into town making the sharp left hand turn into El Rosario proper.
Knowing that traffic would not be coming north from that point on, I took the opportunity to drive up the opposite side of the road, passing by the
vehicles with their frustrated occupants.
At the front of the roadblock I parked my truck and marched up to where I found men sitting in plastic lawn chairs in front of a semi-truck trailer
blocking the highway. I announced to them that I was a single mother and not in the mood to camp out in town with the two children and a wild dog. My
plan was to go south, to Bahia de Los Angeles.
I must not have made a very big impression on the disgruntled crew as they didn’t move.
After making my silly announcement and not getting much of a reaction other than laughter, I knew that I had no other choice. I put into plan the
secret my new found Ex-patriot friend had divulged to me. Walking back to my truck I asked a local observer where I could find the ball field. With a
knowing smile he pointed south.
Climbing into the driver’s seat I made a U-turn as if going to join my place in line. As I made this slow turn the same local came up to the passenger
side window, wished me luck saying, “Go for it.” Parked at this spot was a VW bus. There were two surfers watching my interaction with the locals.
Anxious to get to their surf spot, they decided to follow me.
When I passed the spot where I was ‘supposed’ to dejectedly wait this protest out, I made a sharp left hand turn. Instead of joining the conga line I
aimed for the baseball field. There was a taco stand there and a few of the customers tried to block my advance by standing in the road, arms spread
wide. They thought better of their idea and jumped aside when they were faced with Big Red, followed by a VW surf van that wasn’t going to give them
slack.
As I passed by the taco brigade, full on speeding across the baseball field, I happened to glance over my left shoulder to the highway. Much to my
surprise I saw a truck coming down the embankment, heading my direction from the opposite side of the field.
During the time that I had taken to make my announcement, the u-turn, talk with the surf van, and then the dip past the taco stand, the road crew
suffrage had the time to attach a dead body car to the tailgate of this truck.
Towing the rusted carcass it was racing me for home base, the far south facing corner of the ball field where at the time led to the river bed. There
were 4 men in the bed of this truck, all whooping and hollering as the dead body car they were towing fishtailed back and forth behind them, raising a
huge cloud of dust. I was leading the race and among their greatas, I was the first vehicle to hit the river bed, the VW surfers were right on my
behind.
When I felt my truck drop into the sandy river bed I flashed back on my father. He was an off road racer, belonging to several clubs, very experienced
in desert running. I learned from him that when one hits sand you don’t stop, but keep going. So as I gripped the steering wheel I told my son Connor
to hold tight. We were about to have another fun Baja adventure! I wished the best for Rosie the Bullmastiff in the shell of the truck and floored it.
We roared into the El Rosario river bed, bouncing and racing along. My daughter Cody was secure in her car seat; Connor was in his seatbelt cheering
me onward. Rosie on the other hand was not so comfortable with the generator and various camping supplies in the back of the truck, giving her a run
for her space as we bumped along the river bed.
I lost sight of the surfer boys, not sure if they ever made it out of the river bed or not. I finally located a solid bank to the river and aimed
left. I found myself pulling up and into the backyard of a local woman who was hanging her laundry. As I drove under her laundry line I apologized and
made my way through her backyard, aiming for the highway.
As I nosed my way out of her driveway, I rejoined the pavement far south of the blockade. I was met with the surprised looks and faces of those
waiting in line to go north; cars, campers, big rigs, all wondering where I came from and how did I make it past the road block.
I pulled over to the side of the road to secure the bed of the truck. Rosie had been jolted around, the generator and fuel cans had been dislocated
not giving her much room. I organized the back, gave Rosie a potty stop and as I was closing it all up to head on to Bahia, a man in a motor home
asked me how I got through.
I answered with a smile, “You have to have a big set of balls and know a short cut!” I recalled my adventure advising against it as most likely
another blockade was being assembled across home plate at that very moment.
Still shaking, I headed south for Bahia. It donned on me that there was a good chance that I could be the last vehicle heading south for some time.
I’d better not have any more adventures if I knew what was best for me.
When I pulled into Bahia I found a phone and gave Fred a call. “Guess what Fred, you were right! But guess what else? I know a short cut!” I didn’t
tell him about my new balls!
I've always wondered what became of the surfer VW, and if they remember me.
P<*)))><
[Edited on 28-9-2006 by Paulina]
\"Well behaved women rarely make history.\" Laurel Thatcher Ulrich
|
|
|
Natalie Ann
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 2819
Registered: 8-22-2003
Location: Berkeley
Member Is Offline
|
|
What a marvelous tale, Paulina. Brava!
Be yourself, everyone else is already taken.
.....Oscar Wilde
|
|
|
JG
Junior Nomad
Posts: 49
Registered: 1-29-2005
Member Is Offline
|
|
Paulina..
Your story is great and I'm glad all worked out. I' the feller that posted a similar story under "CRAZIEST THINGS..." Our stories are very similar
except the South direction you took and succeded, and my failed North attempt at LIBERTAD! I am quite sure my brush wit da boyz of SR took place late
May or very early June of 97. I supose this would make two incidences at least ..if this becomes a yearly event one would hope the "bypass road" will
be cleared of the horses I nearly levitated!
|
|
|
David K
Honored Nomad
Posts: 64490
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: San Diego County
Member Is Offline
Mood: Have Baja Fever
|
|
Great that you found it Paulina! Now, it is saved forever (or as long as we have Baja Nomad)!
|
|
|
TinaRMarie2
Junior Nomad
Posts: 27
Registered: 8-29-2006
Location: California
Member Is Offline
|
|
Paulina, I say you DO have big balls! You go girl  What a great story. TFS.
|
|
|
HotSchott
Nomad
Posts: 156
Registered: 9-4-2003
Location: Sandy Eggo
Member Is Offline
|
|
Classic!
It reminds me of an evening we met a 'roadblock' on the edge of the lakebed going onto Laguna Salada about ten years ago.
I will have to elaborate later...
$$
|
|
|
M
Nomad
Posts: 392
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: Laguna Niguel, CA.
Member Is Offline
Mood: looking for joy...
|
|
BRAVO!!!!!
GREAT story Paulina! well written too. I KNOW you have a lot of wonderfull storys, lets hear some more.
Are you going to make it to the Cactus Party? It's been soooo long since I've seen you.. Where are you keeping yourself these days?
Hugs,
M
|
|
|
|
![[*]](images/xmbforum/default_icon.gif){kind=icon}
