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Author: Subject: Peac-cks! In Baja?
Baja Bernie
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[*] posted on 8-31-2007 at 01:14 PM
Peac-cks! In Baja?


Last story from my first book..........Mi Baja No Hurry No Worry


Several years ago Charlie Carbahal, came by the house and asked me if I wanted to go on a picnic with him and Tequila Pancho. When I expressed interest he told me they would pick me up at 8 o’clock the next morning. He then proceeded to tell me what I was to bring. Two cases of beer, 5 kilos (11 pounds) of Carna Asada, and a cooler full of ice. He would bring the corn tortillas and Pancho would bring the Tequila.

Fine!

Bright and early the next day they showed up in Charlie’s Eagle, a four-wheel drive, sedan. I told them I had all of my stuff but we would have to stop at the Butcher Shop in La Mision to get the streaks.

On leaving the Mercado we headed east up the La Mision valley. We forded a stream, which they told me ran year round. Next we passed the giant water pumps, that tap the waters of the valley, the water is sent north to slack the thirsts of thousands of people in Tijuana. This system is an engineering marvel. The water is pumped out of the ground, sent about four miles west and then it is pumped up to the concrete tower on the mountain on the north side of the La Mision River. From this tower the water is gravity fed all the way to Tijuana.

The system still provides much of the water for all of the settlements north of La Mision including Rosarito and parts of Tijuana. How do you make water flow, without any energy source, over hills and valleys for over 40 miles?

After crossing the stream we started to climb a very narrow road; it was just hanging on the side of the cliff. Only one lane wide it continually switched back and forth to reduce the steepness of the grade. Soon we were on top of a broad mesa and we began to encounter barbwire gates every few of miles.

Charlie explained that each time we passed through a gate we were moving from one ranch to another. You may not pass through these ranches without knowing the owners. We began to see huge old Oak Trees, dozens of cows were taking their mid day siesta away from the hot sun. There were more cows than I had ever seen in Baja.

On leaving the last gate we began to ascend a very steep and rutted track that wound up and around a mountain. Reaching the top, we rapidly dropped down into a beautiful valley. A small alpine lake greeted us. It was fed by a quietly bubbling artesian spring. The farmhouse had been built back in the 1870’s. It had been a working ranch for well over a hundred years. Horses and cows were housed in large, ram shackled, barns. Goats and a few pigs wandered all over the place.

I kept thinking this is not any part of Baja that I had ever seen. It was ‘green’. Huge oak trees shaded the house and hovered over part of the pond. Approaching the house Charlie pulled over and stopped under a welcoming a shade tree. Pancho introduced us to his young nephew, Jamie (pronounced Hamie), and his wife. He explained that they were the caretakers of the ranch. Their three young kids were between the ages of three and six. They never stopped running, skipping and laughing.

Everywhere we walked we encountered chickens running underfoot. The place was right out of the “Old West.” It was great!

As Charlie and I unloaded the car Pancho took a long pull on his tequila and offered Jamie a shot. He declined saying he would rather stick to the beer the rest of us were drinking. Pancho pulled a couple of six packs of sodas and a big bag of candy out for the kids. What a treat! They ate well at the ranch but they seldom get such wonderful treats. They both had a coke, and then a candy bar. This brought momma swooping down on them. She removed the rest of the goodies into the house for safekeeping.

Charlie gathered twigs and small branches and started a good fire. Pancho kicked a few rocks in a circle around the fire and the nephew placed the lid of a 55-gallon drum over the rocks. Out came the carne asada and tortillas. The steaks were placed on the old lid and they rapidly began to sizzle. The aroma had all of us drooling long before they were ready to eat. No utensils of any kind were used. When the meat had to be turned you grasped it with a tortilla and flipped it over. You moved fast to keep from burning your fingers. When the steaks were done you just rolled them up in a tortilla and chowed down. The beer flowed and Pancho showed how he got his nickname—‘Tequila Pancho.’ We all eat until we were stuffed. We just lay back under that tree, relaxed, and took a short siesta.

Out from behind the closest barn came five of the biggest peac-cks I have ever seen—the only other ones I have seen were in the San Diego Zoo. Pancho told us that a lot of the ranchers used them like guard dogs. They would attack anyone that didn’t belong on the ranch. They would raise such a noise that the owner could get his gun and see what was what. They also ate all of the snakes that ventured into the ranch yard proper. An added advantage is that they don’t have to be fed. They were fun to watch and when they spread their tail feathers they were spectacular.

We all wandered up to the pond to soak our feet. Charlie ended up trying his hand at fishing. He caught a mess of blue gill, which he gave to the lady of the house.

After a few more pulls on his bottle Pancho challenged me to a shoot off with his pistol. He knew that I was a San Diego cop and he figured that he could shoot better than me. Well, I am a pretty good shot and I made him look sad. We were shooting at cans lying on the ground.

Jamie watched us for a while, and then he went into the house. He came out carrying the most pitiful looking .22 cal rifle I have ever seen. Part of the stock was broken and the ammo tube under the barrel was wired on with rusty old bailing wire. He smiled at us and off hand, shooting from the hip, shot the head off of a chicken running full tilt across the yard. That guy could really shoot!

On our way back down the cliff we saw just how treacherous that road could be. A bunch of guys were using a farm tractor to pull a pickup out of the stream. The truck’s roof had been caved in when it slid off the cliff.

A wonderful day; almost like a fairy tale! Peac-cks in Baja. Who would have thought!

Disfrutar Baja!



Baja Beckons . . .


A hundred miles from nowhere
Just around the corner
New friends will greet you


Kick back and relax
Let things go
Your needs will be met


The Credo of Baja is
Friends are made fast
And mostly to last


No Hurry No Worry
Just kick back and

ENJOY!




My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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[*] posted on 8-31-2007 at 05:58 PM


Baja Bernie Thanks for the story.:D
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BAJACAT
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[*] posted on 8-31-2007 at 08:09 PM


Quote:
Originally posted by Baja Bernie
Last story from my first book..........Mi Baja No Hurry No Worry


Several years ago Charlie Carbahal, came by the house and asked me if I wanted to go on a picnic with him and Tequila Pancho. When I expressed interest he told me they would pick me up at 8 o’clock the next morning. He then proceeded to tell me what I was to bring. Two cases of beer, 5 kilos (11 pounds) of Carna Asada, and a cooler full of ice. He would bring the corn tortillas and Pancho would bring the Tequila.

Fine!

Bright and early the next day they showed up in Charlie’s Eagle, a four-wheel drive, sedan. I told them I had all of my stuff but we would have to stop at the Butcher Shop in La Mision to get the streaks.

On leaving the Mercado we headed east up the La Mision valley. We forded a stream, which they told me ran year round. Next we passed the giant water pumps, that tap the waters of the valley, the water is sent north to slack the thirsts of thousands of people in Tijuana. This system is an engineering marvel. The water is pumped out of the ground, sent about four miles west and then it is pumped up to the concrete tower on the mountain on the north side of the La Mision River. From this tower the water is gravity fed all the way to Tijuana.

The system still provides much of the water for all of the settlements north of La Mision including Rosarito and parts of Tijuana. How do you make water flow, without any energy source, over hills and valleys for over 40 miles?

After crossing the stream we started to climb a very narrow road; it was just hanging on the side of the cliff. Only one lane wide it continually switched back and forth to reduce the steepness of the grade. Soon we were on top of a broad mesa and we began to encounter barbwire gates every few of miles.

Charlie explained that each time we passed through a gate we were moving from one ranch to another. You may not pass through these ranches without knowing the owners. We began to see huge old Oak Trees, dozens of cows were taking their mid day siesta away from the hot sun. There were more cows than I had ever seen in Baja.

On leaving the last gate we began to ascend a very steep and rutted track that wound up and around a mountain. Reaching the top, we rapidly dropped down into a beautiful valley. A small alpine lake greeted us. It was fed by a quietly bubbling artesian spring. The farmhouse had been built back in the 1870’s. It had been a working ranch for well over a hundred years. Horses and cows were housed in large, ram shackled, barns. Goats and a few pigs wandered all over the place.

I kept thinking this is not any part of Baja that I had ever seen. It was ‘green’. Huge oak trees shaded the house and hovered over part of the pond. Approaching the house Charlie pulled over and stopped under a welcoming a shade tree. Pancho introduced us to his young nephew, Jamie (pronounced Hamie), and his wife. He explained that they were the caretakers of the ranch. Their three young kids were between the ages of three and six. They never stopped running, skipping and laughing.

Everywhere we walked we encountered chickens running underfoot. The place was right out of the “Old West.” It was great!

As Charlie and I unloaded the car Pancho took a long pull on his tequila and offered Jamie a shot. He declined saying he would rather stick to the beer the rest of us were drinking. Pancho pulled a couple of six packs of sodas and a big bag of candy out for the kids. What a treat! They ate well at the ranch but they seldom get such wonderful treats. They both had a coke, and then a candy bar. This brought momma swooping down on them. She removed the rest of the goodies into the house for safekeeping.

Charlie gathered twigs and small branches and started a good fire. Pancho kicked a few rocks in a circle around the fire and the nephew placed the lid of a 55-gallon drum over the rocks. Out came the carne asada and tortillas. The steaks were placed on the old lid and they rapidly began to sizzle. The aroma had all of us drooling long before they were ready to eat. No utensils of any kind were used. When the meat had to be turned you grasped it with a tortilla and flipped it over. You moved fast to keep from burning your fingers. When the steaks were done you just rolled them up in a tortilla and chowed down. The beer flowed and Pancho showed how he got his nickname—‘Tequila Pancho.’ We all eat until we were stuffed. We just lay back under that tree, relaxed, and took a short siesta.

Out from behind the closest barn came five of the biggest peac-cks I have ever seen—the only other ones I have seen were in the San Diego Zoo. Pancho told us that a lot of the ranchers used them like guard dogs. They would attack anyone that didn’t belong on the ranch. They would raise such a noise that the owner could get his gun and see what was what. They also ate all of the snakes that ventured into the ranch yard proper. An added advantage is that they don’t have to be fed. They were fun to watch and when they spread their tail feathers they were spectacular.

We all wandered up to the pond to soak our feet. Charlie ended up trying his hand at fishing. He caught a mess of blue gill, which he gave to the lady of the house.

After a few more pulls on his bottle Pancho challenged me to a shoot off with his pistol. He knew that I was a San Diego cop and he figured that he could shoot better than me. Well, I am a pretty good shot and I made him look sad. We were shooting at cans lying on the ground.

Jamie watched us for a while, and then he went into the house. He came out carrying the most pitiful looking .22 cal rifle I have ever seen. Part of the stock was broken and the ammo tube under the barrel was wired on with rusty old bailing wire. He smiled at us and off hand, shooting from the hip, shot the head off of a chicken running full tilt across the yard. That guy could really shoot!

On our way back down the cliff we saw just how treacherous that road could be. A bunch of guys were using a farm tractor to pull a pickup out of the stream. The truck’s roof had been caved in when it slid off the cliff.

A wonderful day; almost like a fairy tale! Peac-cks in Baja. Who would have thought!

Disfrutar Baja!



Baja Beckons . . .


A hundred miles from nowhere
Just around the corner
New friends will greet you


Kick back and relax
Let things go
Your needs will be met


The Credo of Baja is
Friends are made fast
And mostly to last


No Hurry No Worry
Just kick back and

ENJOY!
Inde Bernie great book with last of stories,Im half way allready and still have one more of your trilogy togo..great stuff..thanks



BAJA IS WHAT YOU WANTED TO BE, FUN,DANGEROUS,INCREDIBLE, REMOTE, EXOTIC..JUST GO AND HAVE FUN.....
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Baja Bernie
`Normal` Nomad Correspondent
*****




Posts: 2962
Registered: 8-31-2003
Location: Sunset Beach
Member Is Offline

Mood: Just dancing through life

[*] posted on 9-1-2007 at 07:02 PM
BajaCat


Thanks for the nice words about my books.



My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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