BajaNomad

Sumpin I wrote

BigBearRider - 1-18-2017 at 05:33 PM

I enjoyed reading your words about the "Old hoar."
Thanks for posting.

sancho - 1-19-2017 at 09:04 AM

Quote: Originally posted by BigBearRider  
I enjoyed reading your words about the "Old hoar."
Thanks for posting.











Sounds intriguing, sorry I missed it

BigBearRider - 1-19-2017 at 09:44 AM

That's a first for me. I was censored for quoting the original poster.

chuckie - 1-19-2017 at 10:22 AM

Nah..Appreciate the comment..I dun it....Shared too much..will put up abbreviated version later...On the road now, headed South..

BajaBlanca - 1-19-2017 at 01:15 PM

mannnnnnnnnnnnnnn too late to see the original hahahaha

Baja, On the road!

Lobsterman - 1-19-2017 at 01:27 PM

By an unknown author on his experiences in Baja from way, way back.

"Crossing the border is way too easy now. Prepaid Visa, scan your passport, and the Visa, stamp it twice and off you go. It was much more fun to nurse a beer while the Sargento with the beautiful white handlebar mustachios asked questions and one fingered it out on a long carriage underwood.

Through Tecate, past the brewery park where we sat sometimes and played dominoes. The valleys of Trinidad and Guadalupe are now filled with thousands of acres of vineyards, with more being planted. New wineries everywhere. To Ensenada, with a Walmart and Home Depot, Costco, maybe Hussongs Bar hasn’t changed? Bumper to bumper traffic all the way to San Quintin.
Lupe, at Motel Chavez, where I have stayed for 25 years on my way through, greets me with “Senor Chuck! Now your room has hot water REALLY!”.

Daybreak, on to El Rosario for breakfast with Dona’ Anita Maria Elena Espinosa (Momma). 102 years old and still talking money out of the Gringos for her orphanage, while her niece fixes Huevos Mexicanas with real refried beans not the gooey things we get in the US. Cross 2 beer bridge, through the rock garden and the cirios. Catavina with the model T in the hotel yard goes past. Cross the Salt flats to Guerrero Negro (Black Warrior), now a sprawling army base. Scammons Lagoon on the right, best beachcombing in the world, where the great grey whales come to calve.

Into the twisty high mountains, wish I was on a motorcycle, playing Ricky Racer, instead of in a Dodge PU. Past the turnoff to Bahia De Los Angeles. Turtle steaks at the only restaurant? No more. Just noticed that all the Vados have been replaced with Puentes…miss the Vados. Blast across the plains, back into the mountains to San Ignacio, most beautiful mission left in Baja, from the 1600’s. Getting close, Santa Rosalia next, built by the French as a copper mining town. Mines are open again, by a Canadian firm. Short dash and over the ridge is Mulege…With its river and thousands of Palm trees. Through town up the hill to Loma Azul and park old smokey….

I admit I was worried for a while, that we had lost our old Baja to progress. But there is still enough of her left. She is like an old hoar, our Baja. At times crazy, loving, wild, fickle, but always beautiful. She took our money, broke our vehicles and sometimes our hearts. But we loved her and keep coming back…

I wrote the above last year, upon my return to my home in Loma Azul….Baja is more than a place, its an addiction, a legend, a mystery and more….My addiction started in 1956, while I was stationed in San Diego (Navy).Tijuana was sin city and a big attraction for servicemen. It had everything, bars, hoarhouses, music, bullfights ….and Mexicans, those wonderful, bighearted people. I got to like the Mexicans better than the other attractions. I got special permission to shoot with the Tijuana Police pistol team, good guys all. I was on the Navy 11ND team at the time and was able to provide lots of ammo for practice. Donated, unknowingly, by the US Navy. Several of the cops became good friends, and convinced me there was more to Baja than Tijuana border town neons. One of the officers and I headed south to Ensenada, a little south, actually to Adolfo Villarenos fish camp at “La Bufadora”. I was hooked. Wonderful people, the Villarenos. Fabulous fishing out of a beat up panga, with an asthmatic evinrude on it…way too far out to sea, with an alchoholic guide, no safety net..loving it…We began spending almost all our time off in Ensenada, much of it at “Hussongs Cantina”….still a legendary place….It cant be described, Playboy magazines article said it ” was in a force field, which caused insanity, when you crossed the threshold”. Not far off…always a chess game or two, the Cowboy doing rope tricks, the artist doing pencil sketches, the Mariachis wandering in and out, the Macho machine..a device made of an old hand crank telephone….you grabbed the wires, and hung on while he spun the crank, until the voltage built to the point of pain…It was often so crowded that the bartender would just send drinks out over the heads of the crowd, margs, shots and beers, and money would get passed back….And always, at the little desk in the back room, was Percy Hussong. Percy Hussong.. a soft spoken real gentleman, who sat and kept his eye on business, and was never too busy to listen to problems from his clientel. Sailors, college kids, geezers, who had spent all their money,or had lost their wallets, or had gotten drunk and rolled, Percy listened to em all. A handshake, 20 bucks and a bus ticket, would fix most of their problems. Percy’s rules? Don’t ask twice, and pay me back. I doubt anyone didn’t abide. Celebrities ? You bet, Steve McQueen, Parnelli Jones, Dan Blocker, Gilbert Roland ,James Garner xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx. All afforded the space and privacy of us “normal” folk. No matter how wild it got,there was never a problem in Percy’s bar. There always seemed to be a couple of big guys around to move the problem outside. Hussongs has now become part of a conglomerate, and I imagine Percy has gone on…But what a place….

The more I learned about Baja, the more I needed to know. On Motorcycles, 1st a 500 Norton Single, and 4wd Trucks, First a “new” old Dodge ambulance from WWII, and later in and on more modern devices, I began to venture south. The paved road from Ensenada ended at “Johnsons Ranch” and rapidly turned into a 2 track almost trail. During the Navy years I got as far south as the Comundus, and La Purisima, explored the coast line, the observatory road. Meling ranch, Mikes Sky ranch. Went to San Felipe, down over the “Three sisters” where there was shrine at each one to pray that you would make it. Further down to Papa Fernandez, Calamque, across Lake Chapala, and points in between. Later while working in Palo Alto went as far south as La Paz, on the Norton. That was a one way trip as the road was so rough and gas so hard to find, I hitched a ride on a fishing boat to the mainland and came back on a paved road. And there were always the Mexicans, those wonderful patient helpful people, who never understood why a crazy gringo wanted to go “there”. But Senor’ here we have a store and a cantina, why go “there”?

In the 60’s? I bought a Husqvarna motorcycle from a man named Malcom Smith, who is a racing legend and a lifelong friend. Malcom talked me into desert racing, and my downfall began. When I wasn’t riding the desert, I was riding in Baja............".

That's where this Unknown Author's story ends. Hopefully he will continue it someday and not leave me yearning for more.

BajaBlanca - 1-19-2017 at 01:42 PM

:biggrin:




loved it.



amazing story or history.

sancho - 1-19-2017 at 01:58 PM

Quote: Originally posted by Lobsterman  


"Crossing the border is way too easy now. Prepaid Visa, scan your passport, and the Visa, stamp it twice and off you go. It was much more fun to nurse a beer while the Sargento with the beautiful white handlebar mustachios asked questions and one fingered it out on a long carriage underwood.










These current young whippersnappers don't know how good they
have it, up to date info at one's fingertip.
I chaulked up most of my to the tip and back trips before
there was jack as info. Like only a AAA map and '80 something AAA
guidebook. Back in the day, clear the checkpoint so. of Ensenada, have a beer between your legs after that, not that
I condone that practice. That's what happens when one gets
a few yrs. on them., back in the day stuff.
chuckie, all of us double clutch on a post or 2





DENNIS - 1-19-2017 at 02:08 PM


Looks familiar. Written by someone named Chuck 4or 5 years back judging from the Mama E. time references.

think think think

DENNIS - 1-19-2017 at 02:14 PM




Yeah....Thems was the days. Doing the stretch from Newport to Cabo in the 60s in a VW bug, cleaning the plugs every day, and buying beachfront acre size lots on the Cape for a couple a hundred bucks before anyone had any idea of the laws or money wasted.
Who cared. It was Fantasyland.



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[Edited on 1-19-2017 by DENNIS]