capt. mike - 11-30-2003 at 02:11 PM
As we last left off I was southwest bound at 7500 ft. dead headed ?GPS direct? for Gonzaga Bay to continue the adventure of chasing the Baja 1000
events. It had been a fantastic day thus far and I was ready for a quick bite and some adult beverages as soon as I could land. With the bay in sight
I decided to detour left just a tad and swing over to Bufeo?s place. I tried to hail him on the usual common advisory of 122.8 mhz but got no
response. (found out later he was home but outside) Neither did I get a call back from any other planes in the area, so I angled over to Rancho
Grande?s strip which abuts the main road perpendicular next to a small tienda, and seemingly forever closed Pemex station. Down below it looked busy
with people and vehicles, and I could spy lots of activity. I did a slow 360 degree turn at 500 ft above them and then dragged Alfonsina?s northerly
sand runway to ensure it was dry and otherwise ready to receive an unceremonious arrival.
I was feeling already euphoric as I rolled up to the north end parking area, shut down and climbed out. I walked the 40 or so yards over to Antonio
and Irma?s small motel expecting to be told, ?Lo siento senior, pero tenemos no cuartos este nocha?.
Instead I was greeted by 3 Federales seated at one of the tables on the patio in front of the bar and restaurant?s entrance. They were laughing ,
drinking an obvious brown liquor of some sort ? maybe an exotic tequila ? I wasn?t sure, and also playing a card game. Other than that, the place was
locked up tighter than a bull?s arse during gnat season, and very deserted. All of a sudden all those cliche western movie scenes featuring some
gringo bumbling into a Mexican bar flooded my mind like deja vu from ?Desperado? or ?El Mariachi?. I smiled and asked where the manager was, and that
I wanted a room.
They continued their game and, passing the bottle amongst themselves, answered back, ?They?re all down at Rodriquez?s Rancho for the parties. They are
selling food. They won?t be back until 8:00?.
Ok, Fair enough I thought. I need some exercise, I?ll walk the runway south past all the beach casas and trailer palapas to where it intersects the
east end of Rancho Grande?s 1 mile dirt strip. It?s about 1 and ? miles total hike, and with about 45 minutes estimated daylight left I?ll have no
problems. After about 200 yards of trucking along, a young Mexican along with his girlfriend in a very badly beaten-up jeep pull along side and ask
if I?d like a ride? Of course! ?Muchas gracias amigos, Donde vas??
?We?re going to the races! Does that work for you, or do you want to go to your casa? Is it along this beach??
?No?, I replied. ?I?m going to the races too. I?ll buy you a beer when we get there for the ride.?
?De nada?, he said. And as soon as I climbed into the open back he yells something that I interpreted as ?Hang on!?
Seems my host and new best friend had himself a good case of Baja 1000 race fever, or wanted to impress his girlfriend, .....or me, as he hit the
throttle full speed through the sand next to Affi?s runway and careened over to the side road at Rancho Grande. Now I?m thinking, ?1st, I survive
Desert Bull?s very fast off-road machine, then the perils of cross country flying over some of the roughest terrain in the world, only to check out of
this here existence at the hands of a speed crazed local muchacho, trying to emulate the likes of Ivan Stewart or the Mexican national equivalent!?
He only managed though to simply scare the beejeezus out of me, but to not kill or maim any of us. Glad to get out as I was to get in, I thanked him
and went over to the store where a full blown yard party was in swing.
Grilles cooking all sorts of carne, people drinking and eating, some also in various groups next to all manner of vehicles along the road awaiting the
rush of racers to come blazing through. Based on the times I estimated leaving San Quintin, I figured the 1st motos would be through maybe in an hour
or so. It was going to be closer to dark too and I wanted to quaff a few beers before I figured what the night?s accommodations were going to be. I
knew the Trophy Trucks were running far back of the faster bikes this year and I?d need to return to the road later to see the best action. Inside the
store I bought some ?ballenas? of Tecate and asked if anybody from Alfi?s motel was around? No, they were someplace but he didn?t know where just
then. I walked over to the main drag and consumed a most refreshing liter of very cold and tasty beer.
With a second botella unscrewed I thought it best to head back towards Alfi?s to either score a room or run into some kind soul who might put me up on
a spare cot or hammock. Luck was with me again as not more than ? mile into the return hike 2 gringos in a chevy impala station wagon (??......)
pulled over and I hopped in. I had them stop on the south end of Gonzaga?s row of beach dwellings as I wanted to see 1st, if a friend?s trailers were
available for impromtu ?crashing? and also try and find the trucks described to me by SuperSteve who was running a pit for some team not far from
there. As it ended up I found nothing useful, the whole place seemed very deserted, and I walked over to the plane from which I extricated my
remaining liter of Napa?s finest juice as well as a bottle of Hornitos I had intended to bring out at Cielito Lindo. Thursday?s early evening to bed
put the kabosh on that plan ? maybe for good reason. Anyway I was ready to party again and it was late for a change!
I went over to the patio at Alfi?s ? the Federales were nowhere to be seen and not a sole otherwise around. It was already getting hard to see with
daylight all but a memory. I opened the vino tinto and lit a cigar, 2 of my favorite health foods ? fortified grape juice and green leafy
vegetable...Two figures approached the area walking towards the steps, which lead to the sandy beach and a few extra rooms to the north side of the
building.
?You guys seen the manager?, I ask. ?I?m hoping they?ll open the bar and restaurant soon.?
They answer no, but I can join them for a drink at their room?s patio. ?Sure, why not?, and I found myself in the company of two Dentistas from
Ensenada, both on what is a twice a year trip they take together, always to Alfi?s, to escape their work and family pressures. As a volunteer for a
benevolent charity doing free medical and dental work all over the peninsula I find we have much in common, and the party begins in full swing. While
we?re chatting and I offer them both my Tequila and puros, they begin setting up a complete outside cooking venue replete with gas mini-grille and
side burner. ?We always take all this stuff, our food and whatever ? you never know where you might be?.
My two new friends then treated me to a complete meal of grilled flank steak tacos, beans, queso fresco, and all the typical sides you?d get at any
reputable street vendor?s carteria. What a great meal ? and before then I was buzzed and hungry.
Still no sign of the motel?s owners, so Drs. Sergio Card##as and R. Curiel de Sanchez said I could use their inflatable air bed if I wanted. Sleep on
their room?s floor or even on the beach ? I was welcome either way If I didn?t get a room. This is the reason I love the Mexican people as a group ?
they?ll always give of themselves, it?s so typical of their kind. I thanked them as we drank another toast to our meeting together - us, the only
persons apparently around the premises.
After the meal and several beers with shots they tell me it?s time to go over to the rancho and join the party. That?s what I want to hear too as now
I?m hooked up with some good buds and a ride for the night. As we head for their Nissan SUV up walks Irma and it?s time to find out about a room. Come
to find out that while she ?technically? has nothing left, the reality is a group which I later was told to be from Wide Open Baja had prepaid for a
block of 10 rooms but never showed. I can have one of them but I?ll have to pay for it just the same. That?s not a problem after sleeping on the
ground the night before, I cheerfully hand her $45 and go for the remaining things in the plane all the while thanking those who made the earlier
reservations for not showing.
One of the men with her asks if that was my plane parked in the lagoon? No, but the Comanche sitting yonder a ways is mine. ?Si senior!?, he said
enthusiastically. ?And if you don?t move it soon it will be parked in the lagoon!?
Seems that while the runway did appear only partially wet earlier when I landed, it will become inundated again during the night placing about 8
inches of standing water where my wheels were presently chalked. Unless I wanted corrosive salt in my wheels and brakes I had better re-park. He said
I could use an unused tie down pad along an elevated portion of the east side, but I felt that taxing with only one wing light working would be
dicey. Sergio agreed to ?spot? for me and I started the engine and taxied over.
Loaded with a cooler and some extra snacks the three of us headed over to Rancho Grande for the evening. It was about 7 or 7:30 I think. Full belly,
plenty to drink, smokes packed, and much more to experience.......bring on the amazing race machines!
To be continued.......in part 3.