Osprey - 8-19-2007 at 09:51 AM
Just the Facts #3
Longer Speeches, More Shrimp
Almost all my trips to Baja California were in the summer but a few were just spur-of-the-moment things. I had some time off one Thanksgiving so my
wife and I and her grown daughter jumped in my old pickup and dashed off to Punta Bufeo.
We stocked up on booze at my favorite liquor store in San Filipe and bounced over the old washboard road to a deserted stretch of beach near a small
island. There were some homes and an old cantina on the beach but there was not a soul around when we arrived. We set up camp under a nice little
ramada in front of a small unfinished brick house, made a nice fire from driftwood, put on some music and kicked back for the evening.
A brand new RV pulled in, parked close by and a young couple walked right up to us as though they were invited.
“Having a nice time?” asked the young Mexican guy in perfect English.
“Just great, thanks.” I replied.
“This is my house. You’re camped right in front of my house.”
I said “I’m sorry, we didn’t know anybody lived here. The house is unfinished. We’re just camping here for a couple days. Sorry, we can move. If
you want, we can move right now, find a place way up the beach, get out of your way.”
He smiled and said he and his girlfriend were going to be staying in the house, working there but more fishing and playing around on the beach. The
handsome young man was very cordial and said we could stay. In fact, because his girlfriend did not fish he invited me to go fishing in his tin boat
the next morning.
We wrestled the tin boat down to the water, put the little outboard on, transferred some gas to a small can and got ready to push off. I had brought
some frozen squid for shore fishing and we used that to good advantage. We spent the morning just tooling around the bay trying different points and
depths. Luck was not on the boat with us until about ten AM when we started getting bit by keeper cochito, triggerfish and nice size extrajeros, gold
spotted sea bass.
Since it was just a twelve foot boat of suspect age and condition, we stayed pretty close to shore. Moored near the island was a rusty old bucket of
a camaronera, a shrimp trawler. It had anchored in the protection of the island waiting for nightfall when they would begin to drag the nets up and
down the long stretches of beach in the area.
Back on the beach we cleaned the fish, had a nice lunch, a few drinks to celebrate our good fortune. The drinks convinced us there were many more
good fish out there so we pushed off again. The wind was up now and we fought our way through the chop toward the island. I thought perhaps Ricardo,
my fishing pal, knew of some likely spots around the island and I was too full of Dutch courage to complain much about the bucking and bouncing over
the waves.
Ricardo pulled the little boat right up to the rusty hull of the shrimper, had me hold it off while he shouted to the men on the deck. Two deck hands
came to the rail to see what the commotion was while Ricardo shouted and explained, pleaded and begged, cajoled and apologized for what seemed like an
eternity to me – I had my hands full (scraped and torn by the rusty hull) holding us off safely in the wind and waves. Finally a third man came to
the rail, yelled back to Ricardo and eventually ordered one of the men on the rail to bring a big sack, lower it on a rope to our little bobbing
platform.
We plowed back through the waves as it began to rain. On the beach we opened the sack and discovered several kilos of huge shrimp and two big
halibut, all flash-frozen. I asked Ricardo how he had pulled it off – we had no money with us and nothing to trade.
“The captain, Manuel Castro, was a guest at a ranch where the manager is my mother. He owes her, and my family, lots of favors. I was just calling
in one of the favors. This morning I was just trying to remember the name of his boat.”
“I’m not complaining but it took you long enough. What’s with all that palaver? That was the world’s longest speech. What did you say?”
“Shrimpers drag only at night. During the day they lay up, mostly to sleep. The captain gives strict orders to the crew that he is not to be
awakened unless the boat is on fire or on the rocks. I had to convince the crew there was another good reason to wake the captain.”
Epilogue
It was a cold and windy night but we made a huge fire, filled our bellies with spicy scampy, my wife brewed what must have been gallons of strong
Mexican coffee – we had it with vodka, Kahlua and whipped cream (as a topping). I don’t remember going to bed but I sure remember the fun, songs and
chatter of a bunch of wired drunks enjoying the unexpected treasures of Punta Bufeo.
CaboRon - 8-20-2007 at 06:27 AM
Enjoyed your strory,,,, as usual .
- CaboRon
Cypress - 8-20-2007 at 06:46 AM
Osprey Thanks for the story.