ckiefer - 2-1-2009 at 02:20 PM
Please share your very first Baja Experience.
Mine: In 1964 with my parents, we traveled to Nuevo Laredo (I believe, would have to verify that one with Dad). All I remember was an outdoor market
where chickens were running loose which I found quite odd (city girl) and I brought home this little wooden box that had a slide out top where a
smelly snake popped out! I'll never forget that smell.....
Diver - 2-1-2009 at 03:55 PM
Amazing coincidence; my first time down was in 1964 with my parents also.
We spent the day shopping in TJ and had a blast !
Russ - 2-1-2009 at 04:15 PM
12/59 ~ TJ airport waiting for 1st plane ride to Mazatlan with family for Xmas. We had a long wait. Only one engine was working and waited while they
fixed it. Spent 7 of 10 days very sick and never want to return to Mexico. Learned to eat and drink very carefully.
Bajahowodd - 2-1-2009 at 04:25 PM
You guys have me beat. My first time was a trip to TJ in 1969. Went to the Hotel Caesar, and had lunch. You can probably guess what we ate.
bajalou - 2-1-2009 at 04:44 PM
1939 with my mother and aunts and uncles. I don't remember any of it. I have almost as little recollection of a night's liberty from Balboa hospital
in 1952.
Paulina - 2-1-2009 at 04:58 PM
Another 1964 story. My mom and I went with my Grandfather to Ensenada for a fishing weekend. I fished in the bait tank, (color photo, bottom row). I
couldn't keep them in my hands as they would wiggle out and fall in between the wooden slats on the deck. I put on my long sleeve sweater after that
and used my sleeve to scoop them up.
We stayed at Papagayos. Photo on the left is of the three of us out to dinner. There was a dance floor there where my grandfather would take me for a
waltz as I stood on the tops of his shoes.
Good memories. Thanks for asking.
P<*)))>{
[Edited on 1-2-2009 by Paulina]
fandango - 2-1-2009 at 05:03 PM
paulina: look at the date that you edited your last post. 1-2-2009
weird?
Paulina - 2-1-2009 at 05:06 PM
It's reading Baja style; date, then month, then year. That throws me too every once and a while.
Southern California Commuters, Eat Your Heart Out
Bajahowodd - 2-1-2009 at 05:32 PM
Sorry, but i'm going to cheat here a little. I was reminded of my second Baja experience, and had a question that some of you might be able to answer.
In 1970, I lived in Saugus, CA. It is now part of Santa Clarita, North of the San Fernando Valley. Anyway, not getting up or leaving very early, we
decided to go down to Ensenada to have some lunch and check it out. We drove from well North of Los Angeles, to Ensenada. We had a leisurely lunch,
hit the shops, and then turned around and were home before dinner time. I cannot imagine making such a day trip today. I've actually experienced four
hour trips from central Orange County to Ensenada in recent times.
Here's my question: Aside from the mostly dirt streets, I seem to recall a surprising encounter with a hotel/ motel that may have been Days Inn/
Travelodge??? Obviously not there any more, but I suspect the building is with another name. What I do remember is my surprise at seeing a hotel with
the name of a "major" U.S. chain on it. Can anyone help me?
(Smart alecky remarks not solicited:
[Edited on 2-2-2009 by Bajahowodd]
[Edited on 2-2-2009 by Bajahowodd]
Packoderm - 2-1-2009 at 05:50 PM
I'll bite: It was during the summer of '92 when my son in law and I headed south in my brand new truck to see what Mexico was about. We cruised
downtown TJ with a loose goal of finding the road that would take us south. When I took in the dusty scene of street lights and a fender from a big
rig laying by the wayside, I knew we were in it heavy duty. We took the free road and felt we were getting so much more of an authentic experience of
Mexico than the fancy cars on the toll road. We cruised all around Ensenada's back roads - especially the dirt roads a few blocks back from the
highway. It cracked us up to see the faded stop signs painted on the corners of the buildings. I felt safe eating at the brand new Magic Burger. It
was the only new thing I saw in Ensenada. I knew I would never dare to eat from one of those scary looking roadside tables with hand painted signs
that said, "fish tacos."
Somewhere south of Ensenada, we stopped at a shop that said "Fireworks," and bought as many exploding and flying things as we dared. We took a right
hand turn for no real reason at all and found a partially demolished building, and we contributed in our own demolition efforts using our new
fireworks. We attempted to place a lit explosive the size of a toilet paper roll in a huge bull's mouth that was lying upside down on the side of the
highway, but it was too sinky to get close enough to. The road dead ended at a bunch of souvenir stands. We snorkeled there and I bought a T shirt
that had La Bufadora Dives written with a picture of a cartoon snorkeler trying to spear a little fish while a big shark was just about to spear him.
Then we headed back south. Years later, I found out that the souvenir stands were there for the blowhole tourist attraction. We were within throwing
distance and didn't know it.
Then we drove, and drove, and drove, and drove through the hilly scrub land and turned around at what I later found out was San Quitin. We stayed at a
little hotel in San Vicente on the 4th of July. That evening, I was amazed at how enthusiastically the Mexicans celebrated that holiday with fireworks
in the street.
Then next day we headed back and gave the remainder of our fireworks to a kid, so we wouldn't have a hassle at the border.
It was just a two day trip, but I couldn't even begin to start to describe all the new, strange sights I saw and all the things we did on that trip,
and it seems like it was at least a month long journey in retrospect. On the way south from TJ to Ensenada, it was just too much to take in. I did
shameless hard nose bargaining that was just so much fun. I bargained EVERYWHERE - even grocery stores and Magic Burger. I didn't know any better. I
bargained two bottles of soda pop to the equivalent of about 30 cents. I later found out that the deposit for the bottles was about 26 cents! In
retrospect, I can hardly believe how effective it is to bargain from a position of ignorance.
When I got home, there was one thing I knew for certain: I would be going back someday. Today, I would give my right arm to travel down to Baja again
and get the same feeling I got on that trip. Well, I did get some of that feeling again on my following trip a few years later on a trip all the way
down the peninsula. It seems so Ho Hum anymore.
Osprey - 2-1-2009 at 07:06 PM
Mi Primo, my cousin, Francisco de Ulloa was among a small group of explorers in Mazatlan, just swatting sancudos and eating nopales. He sent a message
for me and my brother to come to the coast to join in the fun. It was no fun for us in Jalisco so we bought some mules and took off. When we got there
we were very disappointed because he said "Emilio, I am ordered to take a ship, go north to look for the passage. You are ordered to come with me. It
will be a grand adventure -- you will earn much gold and respect. Sign here."
I do not have the words to explain how disappointed we were to anchor near the small bay at Loreto where we were hostage to the whim of the crazy,
smelly Indios who sold us water for gold as though it was the other way around
JESSE - 2-1-2009 at 07:13 PM
1975 with my mom, riding the Norte de Sonora bus, road was a mess, portions good, others bad. Waking up in Mulege at 5am and watching the sunrise
while the driver played Trio music, and watching the people sleeping in their roofs. Taking the Taxi from Insurgentes to Santo Domingo on a dirt road,
things havent changed that much.
ELINVESTIG8R - 2-1-2009 at 07:47 PM
…I eventually ended up in Tijuana Baja California Mexico during winter time. I only had a blanket to keep warm which did not do very well in that
respect but it was better than a stick in the eye. I was freezing and hungry and sick with a nagging strong cough. I found myself on a street in
Tijuana where all the prostitutes hang out. I walked up and down the street to talking to several of them individually asking them for some food. All
but one yelled at me something to the effect “Lárgate Niño malcriado” which loosely translated means “Get the “F” out of here you miscreant child.”
One of the women named Maria took pity on me though and got me something to eat and took me to a pharmacy where she paid for some medicine. I remember
the guy gave me a shot in my butt which seemed to eventually cure whatever I had. She bought me a warm coat and let me live with her down at the
Tijuana River where back then people lived in board and tarpaper type shacks. It was a filthy place to live but at least I had a roof over my head. I
think they have all been torn down now. I lived with her for about 3 or 4 months and she treated me like her little brother. I walked the streets with
her to keep my eye one her so she would not get hurt. I think I was 14 years old then. I then left and continued my way down south never to see her
again. I wish I knew where she was so I could find her and thank her for helping me in my time of need. I then ended up in a small community just
south of Ensenada called either Ejido or Colonia Chapultepec where Estero Beach is located. I ran into a local kid named Felipe on the beach who
rented horses to the American Tourists.
I hung out with him during the day and at night I lived under an overturned boat on the beach just outside Estero Beach next to a dilapidated bait
shack where I later sold salted anchovies to the tourists. I remember one day while walking along the highway in Maneadero Baja California I stopped
to rest in an olive grove next to a ditch. I distinctly remember asking myself if being a homeless person was all I was ever going to amount to. It
was at that point I decided I had to somehow find my way to my grandma’s house in Mesa Arizona. All I knew at that point is that I had a grandmother
named Hattie in Mesa Arizona and an Uncle Melvin. I said goodbye to my friend Felipe and headed south. While walking along the highway between
Maneadero and Colonia Vicente Guerrero one night I decided to sleep in a culvert under the highway. I was out in the middle of nowhere. I had been
walking along the highway picking up cigarette butts people had thrown out of their cars and was smoking them. I went down into the culvert and
wrapped myself in my blanket and fell asleep. The next thing I remember is hearing these God awful snarling sounds coming from the area of my feet.
I woke up and realized that a large pack of coyotes were in the culvert and in the process of attacking me. They must have thought I was a dead body
or something and were going to eat me. I probably smelled pretty ripe at that time. When they started biting my shoes and tearing at my blanket I rose
up in such a fright I began screaming at them at the top of my lungs. I picked up anything I could lay my hands on and threw whatever I had in my hand
at them. I ran up to the highway and just kept running with a rock in my hand and looking behind me to make sure they were not coming after me. When
daylight came I was going to throw the rock away but realized it was a crystal about the size of a half a pack of cigarettes or a little less. I kept
that rock all these years and made a small crystal rock necklace with it which I have to this very day. I continued my journey south and ended up in
Colonia Vicente Guerrero where I found a job digging for clams at the beach. It was cold work because I had to go out into the surf waist deep early
in the morning and dig them out with a garden type pitch fork and put them into a gunny sack. I worked as a clam digger for a while living in a rusted
out car next to the sand dunes and ate clams everyday. I then headed south again and got a ride in a pickup truck with a Mexican man who ended up
dropping me off in the middle of the desert because he was turning off the main highway and going east up into the mountains.
There I was, without food and water in the middle of nowhere during the middle of the day. It had been raining so I looked around in the desert for
any pools of water may have collected and the only water I found was that which had collected in some cow hoof prints. Of course I drank it. I found a
rattlesnake by accident which I killed with a rock and skinned and gutted with my bare hands because I did not have a knife. I did have matches though
which I used to light the cigarette butts I found discarded along the highway. I found some dry grass and started a little camp fire which I used to
cook the snake over the coals. I had done that before with jack rabbits I had killed while roaming throughout Mexico. I then found a Cholla Cactus and
an Ocotillo bush. I removed several sections from the cactus and Ocotillo with some rocks and sticks to form a ring on the ground so I could sleep in
the middle and keep the snakes away from me. I had a restless sleep that night and the next day I was picked up by another Mexican man in a pickup
truck and off I went making it to El Rosario Baja California.
I remember coming down into the town from the mesa and being dropped of at Mama Espinoza’s Restaurant. There was one of those old gas pumps in front
of the restaurant the type where the gasoline was hand pumped into a glass container on top of the pump. I think I was 15 years old then. Back then
there were no paved roads that I recall beyond El Rosario. I remember that I was starving and that Mama Espinoza took me in and gave me food and a
warm place to sleep. She treated me as though I was one of her own children. I told her my name was David Martinez because I was an illegal alien in
Mexico and did not want to get in trouble. Back then I was a kid and I think I was not expected to have a Mexican Government ID but just the same I
did it to be on the safe side. I worked at the restaurant for a time then I went to work at a ranch called Rancho San Juan de Dies located in the
mountains south east of El Rosario where Anita’s husband Heraclio Espinoza owned a small ranch. One of Mama Espinoza’s sons and his wife lived on the
ranch at the time. Before her son was at the ranch he worked as an abalone diver and wore a hard hat type diving suit to gather abalone.
While I was at the ranch an old man came who was hired to build an adobe house next to a water tank and a small stream. One of my jobs was that of
helper and had to haul big adobe bricks to him. The man was an alcoholic. I don’t know how, but he managed to keep everything level and plumb.
Whatever he was drinking he always put it in his coffee morning noon and night. At night after work he would drink some more and walk along the lonely
dirt road in the hills of the ranch singing and yelling. There was nothing around for miles and miles but cactus, wild animals and cows. One night the
old man took off on one of his walks and I fell asleep. I was suddenly awakened and could hear him yelling very loudly from a long way away. It
sounded as though he was injured or something. I went to wake up Mama Espinoza’s son at the main house and found he too was awakened by the yells of
the old man. We walked for a long distance down the road in pitch black toward the yelling old man. When we found him he was lying on the ground drunk
as a skunk with one of his arms over the neck of a calf and singing to it.
We dragged him for what seemed like an eternity back to his bunk where he refused to go to sleep and kept arguing that he wanted to go back and sing
to the calf some more. We had to hold him down until he finally passed out. The next morning he denied he did any such thing and was peeed at us for
making up the story. I wonder what happened to him. After I returned to the restaurant from Rancho San Juan de Dies, one day a young American Tourist
traveling alone stopped to buy gas at Mama Espinoza’s in an old World War II 4X4 ambulance wagon. It was still painted in the military green. He told
me that he was going to cross over the mountains to the other side of Baja California and head over to San Felipe Baja California. I told him I was an
American and was trying to get to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. He offered to give me a ride as far as San Felipe so that day I told Mama
Espinoza I had to leave. I thanked her for her kindness and left with American who gave me a ride to San Felipe. I got a job in San Felipe working as
a dishwasher at a restaurant on the beach north of town. I slept in a small rat infested trailer while working there.
I remember the owner had an old, old Toyota Helix pickup truck that we always had to park on a hill to start it by popping the clutch because the
starter would not work. One day I got so sick that I remember dreaming that rats were eating me. The next thing I know is I am waking up in the surf
and the pickup truck is parked on the beach. I guess I drove it to the beach and jumped into the surf which must have reduced my fever to some degree.
I remember an American tourist couple were walking on the beach and pulled me from the surf. I guess I was out of my mind because the next thing I
know I was at the local clinic where they paid for my care. I wish I knew who they were so I could thank them. I think I had the Hong Cong Flu or
something. One day after I felt better and working at the restaurant a shrimp boat captain came to the restaurant from his fishing boat on a smaller
boat which he beached and came into the restaurant to eat. I found out he was out of Guaymas Sonora which was on the other side of Bhatia de
California and one step closer in getting to Arizona. After explaining my situation and wanting to get to my grandmother’s house in Arizona I asked if
he would give me passage to Guaymas Mexico which he said he would.
I worked for 2 or 3 weeks on the shrimp boat. I remember that for the first couple of days I was so seasick I was in the fetal position in the living
quarters. After that I was ok and got my sea legs. The captain dropped me off in Guaymas where I got work with Circus Vargas feeding the elephant and
cleaning up their poop. I remember they had such large poops. While working at the circus I found out there was a warehouse near the Port of Guaymas
where semi tractor trailer drivers loaded up to head to Nogales Mexico which borders with Arizona. I asked around for passage to the border until one
of the drivers finally consented to give me a ride. He gave me a pack of Raleigh cigarettes and told me to meet him at the warehouse the next morning
before light. I camped out near the warehouse next to some trash cans all night long until he showed up at the warehouse then next morning. The
trucker gave me a ride to Nogales Mexico.
He drove me all the way to the border and pointed out a line of people walking into the United States and told me “Kid get in the line and when you
reach the immigration man tell him you are an American Citizen.” I got in line and continued forward with the rest of the people. At the time I was
wearing rags for clothes and had cardboard in my shoes to cover the holes in the soles of my shoes.
I also spoke better Spanish than English at the time. Well when I reached the immigration guy I told him I was an American Citizen trying to reach my
grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. For whatever reason he did not believe me, and neither did any of the other immigration guys. They ended up
turning me over to the Mexican Immigration who locked me up in the Nogales Mexico Jail. God was I scared. I was in a big cell with many criminals and
with only one toilet to go to the bathroom. I spent the night wide awake and never used the bathroom once. The following day the Chief of Police had
me brought to him and asked me what the hell I was doing in his jail cell. I told him about Colonia LeBaron and my homeless travels throughout Mexico
and that I was a 16 year old American Citizen just trying to get to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. God did he raise the roof at the police
station with the people who placed me in the jail cell. The Chief made a telephone call to someone and the next thing I know is two Americans came to
interview me at the police station. I told them my story and the names of my grandma and uncle and they said they would try to find them for me.
For the next 4 months or so I lived at the police station in a small room where they put a cot so I could have a place to sleep. The policemen bought
me some new clothes and new shoes and some of them even took me to their house so I could take a shower. I became the official police shoeshine boy,
office cleaner and interpreter until my Uncle Melvin showed up with my American Birth Certificate and took me home to my grandmother’s house in Mesa
Arizona. At the Age of 17 I joined the Marines and went to Boot Camp in San Diego California.
I have edited the above to correct a couple of misspellings and to say the following:
1. What is written above is true.
2. It was not written to outdo anyone.
3. It is what happened to me in my childhood, which made me a better and stronger person in life.
4. There is more of the story before and after the above, which I wrote in another area of the forum but removed it some time ago.
[Edited on 2-4-2009 by ELINVESTI8]
ckiefer - 2-1-2009 at 07:57 PM
ELINVESTI8
Well that beats the pants off my snake in the box story! 
BajaDanD - 2-1-2009 at 08:58 PM
In 1969 I went with my Parents ,My grandfather and my Aunt , Uncle and cousins to Rosarito and Ensenada we stayed on the beach somewhere, in these
little beach houses/shacks. There were tide pools that we played aroung in. We saw this little Octipus sneeking around. As we were trying to catch
it my Aunt heard all the commotion and came and drug us off the rocks screamming that the Octipus was going to pull us in the water and drown us. We
tried to tell her that it was only as big as our hand. But she wasnt listening all she knew was, that there was an octipus out there and it was going
to kill us. That same day My grandfather bought some live lobsters for dinner. When my grandfather put them in the pot My Aunt freaked out started
screamming and crying. She damb near wanted a funeral for them. We didnt eat lobster that night and my grandfather never let my aunt come to Baja
again.
Terry28 - 2-1-2009 at 09:01 PM
Crap...I can't even make up something to be in the same boat as ELINVEST18!!
Skipjack Joe - 2-1-2009 at 09:55 PM
BajaDanD, your aunt sounds a bit like my mother.
She once called me in a worried tone and asked me if I was OK at work because she had read about these computer viruses going around.
Don Alley - 2-2-2009 at 11:01 AM
I visited Las Cruces with my parents and aunt and uncle in 1961. Flew down in a private plane.
Fishing was great for marlin, cabrilla, pargo, etc...
Paulina - 2-2-2009 at 12:16 PM
Don,
I think I have a photo of the same Las Cruces swimming pool in my memory box on the bottom right, posted above. My grandfather used to fly down there
often.
I wonder what it looks like now.
That's a great photo of you and the pargo.
P<*)))>{
Cyanide41 - 2-2-2009 at 01:06 PM
ELINVESTI8.....wow that is an incredible story. It seems like there is more to it. Did you write a book about it? I have a ton of questions that you
have probably answered a million times.
Ken Bondy - 2-2-2009 at 01:49 PM
My story isn't nearly as interesting as ELINVEST18's fantastic account, but here's how I described my first Baja experiences:
___________________________________
I think I was a Mexican in another life. I have a powerful attraction for Mexico and all things Latin. The attraction is particularly strong for that
part of Mexico known as Baja California. Perhaps it was just proximity; I grew up in the Los Angeles area, less than 200 miles from the Mexican
border. I can’t remember exactly how I got interested in Baja (the other life, maybe?) but I started going to Tijuana shortly after high school (late
50s). I am uncomfortable admitting this, but one of the initial attractions I had to Latin culture was bullfighting. I was a huge Hemingway fan and
“Death in the Afternoon” was a strong influence. The Latin pageantry, the whole spectacle of the Tijuana “Bullring by the Sea” grabbed me—but
eventually the brutality and cruelty of the “corrida” outweighed the fun parts of the afternoon and I lost interest. I do remember loving the
cultural shock of crossing the border, the mostly friendly chaos of the Tijuana streets, the drive out Calle Segunda to Playas de Tijuana, the colors,
the smells of the mesquite fires. It was amazing that everything could be that different by just passing a few feet over some imaginary line. It was
an attraction for me that would last a lifetime.
I made my first trip to the southern part of the peninsula in the late 1960s. It was a fishing trip to the classic “east cape” resort Rancho Buena
Vista. On that trip we flew commercially to La Paz, and then took an air taxi flight in a high-wing single (I think it was a Cessna 206 or 207) from
La Paz airport to the dirt strip at Buena Vista. The experience was literally life-changing for me—flying in a small airplane, landing on a dirt
strip, the first taste of the Sea of Cortez where the desert just became ocean—the whole “Baja experience” back when it was still young, simple, and
pristine. Back then Cabo San Lucas was a dusty little village. When I got back I started collecting and reading everything I could find on Baja
California. I went crazy over Ray Cannon’s classic book “The Sea of Cortez.” Baja would become a major part of my life and experience for the next
40 years; it remains so today.
I learned to fly in the early 1970s and earned my private pilot’s license in 1973. Within a year I had my instrument and multiengine ratings. Baja
influenced my decision to take flying lessons. I knew flying would open up my access to the peninsula, making everything easier to get to and in much
less time. In 20 years of flying I eventually logged over 1,700 hours, flying a wide variety of single-engine airplanes (Cessna 150, 152, 172, 177,
182, 210, Beechcraft Bonanzas F33, V35 and A36) and several multiengine airplanes (Beechcraft Travelair and Duchess, Piper Aztec.) In 1979 I bought a
beautiful 1963 Beechcraft Baron, and in the next ten years logged over 1,000 hours in it, more than half of my total time. The Baron was like a
family member.
My four kids kind of grew up in Baja. They loved Baja and the Mexicans loved them. The kids all thought they were Mexican…eventually that had to be
explained. There were several places we particularly enjoyed and visited often—Hotel Punta Pescadero on the “east cape” near the southern end of the
peninsula, Meling Ranch in the mountains north of San Quintin, and the cities of Loreto and La Paz.
DanO - 2-2-2009 at 03:38 PM
1969, in my dad's cab-over camper, in a caravan with a buddy of his and the buddy's snooty Parisian wife. We spent the first night at La Bufadora.
Dinner was rolled tacos cooked on a wood burning stove by a local woman. The oasis of San Ignacio was surrounded by what looked like thousands of
empty beer cans winking in the sun. We spent the better part of a week camping on the beach at Bahia Coyote, getting our provisions from the locals
and the ocean. My dad traded a bottle of tequila to some fishermen for a couple of kilos of shrimp and half a dozen fish. We bought creamy avocados
the size of melons from a burro-drawn vegetable cart. We made road trips to go clamming, scraping the butter clams off the bottom with our feet, and
using pismo clams as squirt guns in water fights. My dad made fish head soup and put the biggest fish eye he could find into his buddy's wife's soup
bowl, for laughs. She was not amused and dumped the soup on her husband, which only made everyone laugh harder. That trip, and another one a couple
of years later in a moho down to La Paz and across on the ferry to Mazatlan, gave me the fever.
David K - 2-2-2009 at 04:46 PM
Summer of 1965... I was 7 1/2 and my parents just got a Jeep Wagoneer after hearing that a Jeep was the only way to drive to Gonzaga Bay... where the
best fishing was!
The paved road ended in San Felipe, a block from the beach and all the streets were otherwise dirt... We bought some bakery items and headed south. At
Puertecitos, 50 miles from San Felipe, a gringo said that was the end of the road... but not for us! Into four wheel drive for the 20 miles of steep
up and down grades and 30 more miles of various terrain that would take most of the day.
We camped on the beach a bit south of the few 'homes' that were Alfonsina's... I remember getting a bad sunburn on the back of my legs... and mom
using vinegar to treat the pain.
I think photos from that trip are all on slides (Bell & Howell days)...?
That was the start of my family's love affair with Baja! Every chance, every school vacation, we headed south... Agua de Chale (Nuevo Mazatlan) became
our favorite destination... the corbina fishing from the lagoon/ bay just north (today's Bahia Santa Maria) was outstanding.
The summer of 1966 was our BIG adventure... Tijuana to Cabo San Lucas... 800 dirt road miles. We returned via the new ferry from La Paz to Mazatlan
and up the mainland's paved roads.
Here are a few photos from the '66 trip:
8 1/2 year old me and 500 year old (?) cardon:
Panga fishing off Cabo
My first dorado
La Paz Ferry Terminal with dad
mulegemichael - 2-2-2009 at 05:59 PM
my first time down was a foray into tijuana in 1965 as a sailor..lured there as a young farmboy doing his 8 weeks at boot camp in san diego...as soon
as i graduated, i headed south before being shipped out....then...in 1972, having completed my "obligation", i hitchhiked down from washington state
with a buddy who had "avoided" the draft and was on the run....we were mostly penniless but happy...my friend had long hair and the nixon "long hair
watch" was on...we bought a cheap wig and tucked his hair up underneath it, to no avail...the border had snitches on watch all the time and they
spotted steve and busted him...so...they turned us around, saying we couldnt go into mexico...we went back to a five and dime right there by the
border, bought a pair of scissors and i cut his hair off in their restroom....we marched proudly across the border!... the first guy to pick us up was
mexican and the first thing he did was produce a wooden matchbox with a couple of joints in it...well.....we smoked one and were completely out of
it!....he dumped us off about halfway to ensenada in the middle of nowhere...i got out of the car, watched him drive off and then realized i had left
my only pair of shoes on the floor of his backseat...now i'm barefoot with only a bedroll to keep me company...the next car to pick us up was three
mexicans and a bottle of tequila....we sat in the back and the bottle was passed around...over and over...over and over....by the time we got to
ensenada my buddy was just out of it....they dumped us downtown with a bueno suerte and an adios....i took him down to the beach and put him to bed
for the night....the next day we pointed our noses south and eventually ended up in punta banda...which....was completely deserted in those days....we
headed out on the spit and took up residence...in time, we built a really nice driftwood shelter, got to know the locals, and fell in love with the
place...stayed almost the year on the beach and just got baja'd big time...love it1
Long long ago in a galaxy far far away....
Sharksbaja - 2-2-2009 at 07:01 PM
1959 or thereabouts. My folks went regularly when we were little. Here's from previous post.:
I was prompted to recall a few more mental snapshots in time. I really recall the different smells. As a child the smell of life and more was
omnipresent. They say that smells program your brain permanently and can't be forgotten. In other words, once you smell something you'll always
remember that smell shall it come by your way, even in 50 yrs.
So now when I happened along the Toll Road last year the bad smell triggered that "been there-done that" response in my mind. Yes it did smell bad
that day. I've no idea how many days a year Rosarito Beach area reeks, but that familiar smell etched into my brain decades ago briefly reared it's
ugly head
Listen up Mr. Trump!
On the other hand I had an epiphany 3 or so yrs ago. I was driving along Hwy 1 and the sweet smell of mesquite smoke wafted thru my vehicle. I
suddenly remembered that smell from the same area from 35 yrs earier.
I was really into jewelry and fireworks in my late teens. TJ was a wonderful place to shop. Most store owners would bargain with Americans and many
touted about their skill in getting a great deal thru their method. It's true and stll is today. You CAN get a deal through bargaining many times. I
doubt the new Home Depots and others will subscribe to that .
Back when California was less flammable, we filled our shopping list in TJ. I was in heaven when the the store owner showed me his fireworks for sale
in the back. I went back north with cherrybombs and crackerballs. We eventually located other merchants who could help us out with other firecrackers.
I loved em even though they had a fair share of duds. They were all loud though and contained a goodly amount of flashpowder. They kicked arse when
they worked. Some mean M4000 or whatever with plastered ends. Giant oversized firecrackers baring dual fuses. Trianglular firecracers you could fling
like a frisbeee and those wonderful; little lady fingers who your friends dared you tolight and explode on the tip of your fingers.
What about the velvet art paintings that came about in the 60s. I remember as a boy looking into stores and seeing vibrant paintings of large breasted
women. I really enjoyed the lack of censorship.
When my parents eventually figured I was old enough let me go shop on my own. My bounty always included a few things I would bring back. A few packs
of "Horechit Cigarettes" remember...."Not a fart in a car load" , a couple fancy switchblades, a bullwhip or two and some fireworks.
Ah, the good ol' days. I have to admit tho, the Chinese fireworks are much more reliable.
Iflyfish - 2-4-2009 at 10:56 AM
ELINVESTI8
Yours takes the pan comida amigo!
Mine is with my twin brother, 1962, 17 years old, just finished high school, mother waving good bye, tears pouring down her cheeks as her sons head
down to Mexico an a 250 Ducati Diana Road Racing motor cycle. Single sleeping bag between us, held to my back with a spare tire tube.
Tule fog in the San Joaquin Valley, droplet’s flying off brother's helmet hitting me in the face. Finally too much fog, no let up and visibility
getting worse. Stop at an old shut down motel, they open a room for us, took pity on the kids, slept a fitful night on blood stained sheets and no
heat.
Tijuana for New Years Eve, Blue Fox, won a dance contest with a naked go-go girl, six pack of Tecate, double take on a grizzled old man get his stage
side, jaw dropped, left when the beer bottles started sailing and smashing on pillars inches from my head.
Down the road to Ensenada and a night on the beach by Estero Beach, slept by a breakwater and awoke with a wave pouring over us. Brother drives to
Laundromat in his long johns to dry our clothes and sleeping bag. College kid revelers awake from their nights tequila binge, fire lit up with bursts
of tequila, saw one wake up, sit up and puke. Enough of tequila for a while.
Decide to head north to San Felipe and blast thru a check point at sixty five plus and turn to see the guard come out and wave his Thompson sub
machine gun in the air at us. Who knew about check points?? Was he a bandito? Just tuck into the paint and turn the throttle as far as possible. Now
know just a guy doing his job checking papers.
This was the start of a lifelong love of Mexico, start of a forty five year affair that had us returning over and over for weeks at a time to see most
of the Republic. Brother now lives there and we return again this winter for a few months. The beat goes on e avia bien.
Iflyfish
805gregg - 2-21-2009 at 08:58 AM
My father drove us from LA to TJ all the way on PCS, no freeway then. We got to drive through all the little beach towns on the way. It was 1957, we
had a 1957 Ford station wagon, I was nine.
24baja - 2-21-2009 at 12:03 PM
All of you have been so blessed in your life to be going to Baja for so long, we have just been going for 4 years.
I had been down in 1989 with some girlgriends and loved it but my husband didn't want to go. I told him that if he went he would fall in love with
Baja as I had done but he would have none of it! So when our 25th anniversary came along we made a list of things that we wanted to do and on the
list was Marlin fishing, we booked a trip to Punta Colorada and there began a most wonderful romance, a romance between us and Baja and with each
other, it is magical! He was hooked, we now have a place in BOLA and go down 3-4 times per year (as work permits). Someday we can retire and enjoy
Baja more frequently.
Thanks for all of your wonderful stories.
BajaNuts - 2-21-2009 at 05:07 PM
mid-1970's, one day trip with my parents and brother (age 12-ish) and me (age 10-ish). Through Tijuana and to Ensenada. We hit the tourist souvenier
shops, mom bought a vest with fringes and a leather cape with fringes. I still have the vest to use for costume parties....
The most vivid memory I have of the trip is the kids my age begging. Following us, chasing us to our car. My dad was trying to get us in the car and
this boy my age kept saying..."money for a taco? money for a taco?"...even after we were in the car the boy was trying to open my door.
"money for a taco? money for a taco?"
I knew it might have been a "professional beggar" but it still made a lasting impression. To this day I can hear him..."money for a taco? money for a
taco?"
susanna - 2-21-2009 at 05:56 PM
1955 was my first time in TJ, I was 13 yrs old and went with my parents and sister and my little niece to visit my uncle who lived in TJ and also had
a little leather shop down on main st.We had our picture taken with a zebra striped donkey and big sombreros.In fact i still have the picture but
really appreciate
my grandfather who after working here in the US decided to bring his family
and settled here in the 1920's where my mother married and we were all born.
We went back in 1990 to visit Sta Rosalia her birth place when she was 75 yrs old. We took pictures of mom in front of a Bollilo Bakery and a big
steam engine.Some men sold us a big fish i think they said it was a grooper.We ate tacos at a shack accross the street.Just some of the stuff i
remember of our trip to baja.