With all that goes on in this world it can be easy to forgot just how kind and giving people, and even complete strangers, can be.
Now 'strangers' seem to come in two flavors, someone you have some sort of connection to, be it the same hometown, or both in some sort of
organization or you both went to the same school and therefore there is some sort of thread.
The other 'stranger' is someone where you have no known thread to connect you to them with and they may not even speak your tongue and you might have
to communicate with sign language. These are the strangers I am referring to here.
I would say that most of you that post on here have been kind, and perhaps even amazingly so, to strangers.
But what I would like to hear is a story about when someone has been kind to you.
So fire away, gives us the details of when a complete stranger has shown you some Amazing Random Kindness.bajabuddha - 3-28-2019 at 11:06 PM
One of my first trips to Baja (but not to Mexico) was to Puertecitos. On the way home in my '86 GMC camper van I broke down just south of Mexicali,
maybe about 10-15 kliks..... I'd pulled into a small abarrotes to receive my refund on deposito empties, and when I tried to start the old beast it
was a no-go, my starter motor took a dump on me.
An older man in a classic "La Bomba" pinto with a bad muffler and rear window missing had pulled in, and still struggling to learn fundamentals of the
language I asked him, "ayuda me por favor?", and boy, did he ever. He crawled under the front of the van and asked if I had tools, mostly by
hand-gestures, and to my requests to let me do the work, he took out my starter motor and in our 'way' of speech told me he knew a local mechanic who
would rebuild it.
This is where the fun begins. The 'specialist' was only a few doors away from the little grocery store..... he walked it to the guy. Mean time the
two of us sat on a bench outside the front of the store... he purchased a ballena of TKT and fetched a few plastic cups from the tienda, and we sat
and proceeded to share the quart of cervesa whist the rebuilding took place.
I'm quite sure he spoke some English (as is usually the wont in Baja) but never let on about it, requiring me to totally concentrate on Spanish.....
I had my Spanglish dictionary in hand, constantly referring to it for the next probably 2 - 3 hours waiting for results on the rebuild. The next
ballena was on me, and the next was on him, etc. We chatted about a lot of things; I gathered his profession was rabbits (for food), ''conejos'', and
this was his neighborhood.
The fixer stopped by two or three times telling us he needed another widget or apponetam or whatever for the starter, I guessed it was pretty
toasted, as we were becoming as well.... was close to dusk when the job was completed. Didn't cost much at all, and when returned to us Senor Beltran
refused my begging to let me put it back to my Vandura, crawled under the front and did the deed. I offered to pay him wages for it, and was very
politely refused. All I paid for (besides the starter rebuild) was a couple quarts of TKT (returnable) bottles.
In the last part of our 'conversations' he made me promise to return a letter, giving me his home address, which I did. Took my time and tried to
write a readable epistle of gringo/Spanglish dialogue, and sent it off..... never did get a reply.
Espirtu Baja at its finest. wilderone - 3-29-2019 at 07:15 AM
So many times I have been the recipient of kindness in my travels and have tried to reciprocate. Once I was car camping (as usual) in Chihuahua,
having left the Cuarenta Cases archaeological site and was looking for a place to camp. I drove for miles looking for an appropriate place, but both
sides of the highway were fenced. I finally came to a bridge with a little offroad access and pulled over, scouting it out. Too much traffic, didn't
feel right. But across the street I saw a weedy path leading to a gate. Well, knowing about gates in Baja and what that usually means (i.e., you can
pass but close the gate so the cattle don't get out), I drove down the two-track and checked the gate. It wasn't locked and beyond was a little
cliff, a small stream, nice little campsite - perrrfect. So I proceeded to set up my tent and wander around. Found an Anasazi pot sherd down by the
stream - wow - obviously an old campsite. Some cattle did come right through my camp. A little later a dog came around the corner barking and barking
at me. I got in my car in case this dog was going to take a nip or worse. And about 30 yards behind it, around the corner, comes a guy on horseback.
Apparently the landowner doing a perimeter check. I got out of the car, he calmed the dog. I'm sure he was quite surprised to see a gringa camped
on his property. I explained in Spanish that I went to Quarenta Casas (an Anasazi cliff dwelling), and drove and drove and couldn't find a place to
camp. I asked if I could stay there overnight. Oh, si, si, no problema. I asked if I could hike around and look at birds the next morning. Oh, si,
si, hay mucho pajaros. He proceeded to chat in Spanish - a long narration that I didn't understand at all (!). He ended by telling me there were
some tree cutters coming in the morning that would come by, evidently to harvest some of his pine trees. He said he'd come by in the morning to check
on me. Which he did, asked me if I was OK. So generous and I felt fortunate for the encounter.Fatboy - 3-29-2019 at 12:57 PM
Here is one for us that just happened recently.
We are in, County Kerry, Ireland in a very small town called Caherdaniel. It is two days after Christmas, and we had camped out in a really rough spot
last and awoke to the sound of a light rain tinkling on the tent and water flowing under the tents. The 'we' in this story is me and my 20 year old
daughter, Samantha.
After a light and hurried breakfast we are off. We had stayed in Sneems the night before, which is another amazing story of random kindness to be told
at another time, and today was day seven of our hike along the Kerry way.
We hit Caherdaniel about two hours before sunset, which was around 4pm at this time of year. Walking through town we see all the B&B's are closed
for the season and the town is too small for hotel.
Looking at the map we see that there is a campground about two miles out of town on a busy narrow road called N70. There is barely enough room for two
cars and certainly no room for hikers like us. Every passing car meant we were in the ditch pushed up against the fence with the drivers passing us
just inches away.
Two miles can seem a lot longer than it really is at the end of rainy day of hiking and you are wondering just what it would feel like to be struck by
one of the passing vehicles and we round each corner hoping for it to be the last one.
Arriving at the campground is a relief that quickly leads to disappointment when we see that it is closed. We wonder what to do and even go so far as
to knock on some nearby doors to see if we can find anyone that might know the owners.
No one is home, or maybe they do not want to open their door to a pair of dripping wet backpackers. We kick around the idea of just camping anyways in
one of the spots hoping that someone would come along and we could square up with them at that time.
We decide not to, feeling that it would not be appropriate. The sun is setting, the rain is still falling and for the first time we do not know where
we are going to spend the night while walking the Kerry Way.
A car pulls into the driveway that we are sitting on and heads back to one of the houses that line the coast on either side of the campground,
suddenly the car turns around and pulls up to us and ask if we are OK?
We explain we are looking for a place to camp and we are unable to call the number listed on the door. He says "No Problem", takes out his phone, and
says he will call the owner. Before we know it he is talking to the owner and explaining to him what is going on.
Next thing we know he says the owner says pick a spot and he will be around to collect the fee tomorrow. Our only concern is if the campground takes
Credit Cards since we do not have that much cash and the nearest ATM is about ten miles away. We figure that we will cross that bridge when we come to
it. He says the showers are unlocked and to enjoy our stay.
What a relief! We go find a spot and stash are packs, because we want to hike back into to town before it is completely dark and find some dinner. We
find the only place in town that is open and serving food, a busy pub full of locals and after a few minutes we are seated at a table and ordering a
nice dinner.
Speaking with our waiter he finds out we are walking and that we are camped at the campground a few miles out of town and he offers to call the local
taxi for us. Since it is now dark and the road was scary for pedestrians during the daytime we decide it would be best and before we know it we are
being whisked out of town to the campground.
It is quick, dry and safe ride back to the campground and after paying the driver we walk to the site we selected in the misty darkness to find a
leather bag and a pot next to our backpacks.
The pot is full of some delicious smelling stew and the bag has bowls and spoons and a bottle of Vodka and a couple of cups. Even more amazing is that
there is an envelope with enough Euros to pay for the campground. All this really chokes up Samantha.
The morning the gentleman comes by to pick up his pot and bag the next morning and we try to give the money back and he is not having it. We Thank him
several times over and try to impress on him how nice that was and all he could say was he could not just lets us stay out in tents on a cold December
night without doing something for us.
This gentleman did not know us, we were not asking for his help, and yet he went out of his way to make sure we were comfortable. Not once but, three
times! Once when he turned around and called the owner. Then when he brought us the food and Vodka and then the next morning when he came by to pick
up his belongings because he was heading off to work.
To wrap it here is a short video of Samantha recapping what happened that night....
Fatboy - 3-29-2019 at 01:10 PM
BAJABUDDHA--- It is amazing that people don't just stop and make sure you are OK, but do most of the work against your wishes and then stay until you
are on your way!
It is almost as if they take responsibility for you, AMAZING!
WILDERONE --- When traveling like that it can be stressful sometimes finding a spot for the night. We sure do not want to offend anyone and mean no
harm to the land and for the owners to be so generous is always heartwarming'
I had to look up the site you had visited, Cuarenta Casas. Looks like a cool spot in an interesting part of the country.
Anyone else? Does not have to be Baja related.... wilderone - 3-29-2019 at 04:45 PM
Loved your Ireland adventure story.BajaBlanca - 3-29-2019 at 06:24 PM
Wonderful stories.Paco Facullo - 3-29-2019 at 07:33 PM
I once bought a drink for a Senorita in Tijuana that was a complete stranger and she ended up .......
Well let's just say she was vary nice to me ! azucena - 3-30-2019 at 07:33 AM
Several years ago I had a major tire blow out at 7am between Catavina and Chapala. It was beginning to rain. I was alone . I was in the process of off
loading stuff to get to the jack and trying to keep things dry. A few cars passed heading North. One did a U turn. Turns out they were mechanics from
Camalu. They changed the tire in no time flat (hehe) and refused to take the money I offered them. I finally convinced them to take it, along with
some Christmas candy.They told me where I could get a new tire in GN.
Salt of the earth Baja hombres. The best.TMW - 3-30-2019 at 08:04 AM
Great Ireland story, thanks for sharing it.
I firmly believe that if you help people when they are in need it will repay you many times over. Karma is real. AKgringo - 3-30-2019 at 09:35 AM
It has been a few years, but I will never forget the time I broke down on the Alaska highway, about a 150 miles south of Fairbanks.
I had my family with me in a GMC 4x4, and had just traveled across the Denali highway and turned south when the fuel pump quit. I was able to figure
that out on the side of the road while in a cloud of freshly hatched mosquitos!
About the time I was thinking "What do I do now?", a fully loaded pick up headed north pulled over to see why my hood was up. We didn't chat long
(remember the mosquitos?) when he turned around, pulled out a heavy duty mooring line and hooked it up to his truck.
He told me to hook it up to mine, and he will get me to where I could get it fixed, just don't run over his line! I didn't know where we were going,
but anywhere out of the bugs was a good idea!
The place he took me to was 50 miles back the wrong way for him, and we covered it in about an hour! I was a wreck, towing at that
speed with no power steering or brakes, with about a 25 foot tow line is not easy!
We wound up at a roadhouse that not only had a gas station, but a room to rent for the night while the mechanic got a fuel pump headed our way.
The guy that pulled us down there would not even let me top off his fuel tank, and I don't remember his exact words, but it was the equivalent of "Pay
it forward"!
And I have, many times! TMW - 3-30-2019 at 01:46 PM
That's a good one.
When I tow with a strap I always tell the person in the other vehicle when you see my brake light come on you start braking then I'll start braking.
So far I haven't had any problems.Fatboy - 3-30-2019 at 02:51 PM
Thanks, Everyone.... Come on you grumpy folks... when has some been nice to you for no other reason than to help a fellow human?
Chuckie?
JZ?
MtGoat?
Joe yes just yo?
DavidK?
Others?DanO - 3-30-2019 at 05:27 PM
One night in the late 1960s, my Dad, step-mom, step-brother and I were in British Columbia in my Dad's Chevy pickup with a cab-over camper, heading
northeast between Vancouver and Shuswap Lake. It was cold and raining hard when one of the tires went flat. My Dad pulled the truck over onto the
muddy shoulder and started setting up the jack, but the mud was too soft. A pickup pulled over and a couple of guys got out, introduced themselves,
assessed the situation, and then one of them grabbed a couple of pieces of lumber out of the back of their truck to use as a base for the jack.
Working together they quickly swapped out the flat with the spare, but by the end of it they were drenched and covered with mud. When my Dad told
them that we were heading to the lake to camp, the driver suggested that we follow them and camp at his place. Turns out that they were friends who
lived next door to each other on the shore of Lake Shuswap. We pulled onto the driver's property and he guided us to a spot right at the edge of the
lake to set up camp, and then invited us to have dinner with his family in their home. He refused to accept any money for his time and hard work, to
clean his muddy clothes, for the fantastic meal, or for the campsite. I was completely gobsmacked. Woke in the morning to beautiful sunshine and the
lake lapping at the shore right outside.
I've always wondered whether that experience caused my Dad to pay it forward a couple of years later on another camping trip, this one down in Baja.
In Mulege he hired a panguero to take us out fishing, north of town. I saw my first fish boil and landed my first yellowtail, one of several we
caught that day, and my Dad hauled in a big grouper. Back in Mulege, my Dad had the panguero filet the fish, and then he broke the filets out into
three groups. The first went into the freezer in our camper, the second went to the panguero and his family. My Dad gave me a sack with the third
and by far largest batch of filets, drove us to one of the poorer residential areas in town, and had me walk door to door, asking the folks "quieres
pescado?" A few of them clearly didn't know what to make of a little guero with a big bag of fish, but they were all polite and gracious, and those
who accepted the gifts of food were extremely grateful. Taught me a real life lesson.
