Nothing very extraordinary happened during our week-long and accidental stay at Black Warrior in 1974. Our Land Cruiser, La Tortuga, was busted and in
repair. Without a vehicle we had lots of time to kill, walking around town and sitting in small restaurants talking or reading over coffee. I had
always kept a log and that filled my time. Mary Ann read romance novels. I was jealous.
One day, out of boredom, I decided it would be nice to have a bottle of red wine. I had no idea where to find one or even if there was a liquor store
in the town. I left Mary Ann in our room, reading her book, and walked down the side streets to the main thoroughfare into and out of the town, a wide
dirt road. In the center of town was a single, dust covered taxi. I asked the driver if he knew of a store that sold wine and liquor. He certainly did
and immediately gestured for me to get into the cab. I told him I was fine to walk. He said it was too far to walk. He was animated and quick and
insistent that I sit in his cab and be escorted to this store. Seeing no simple alternative, I climbed into the front passenger seat and we took off,
east.
We passed through the salt company part of town and continued through the eastern part and we drove through the dump and straight out of town, under
my constant questioning and his strong assurances that he knew exactly what I needed. We drove to the junction of the transpeninsular highway and,
where the road forked for the northern and southern routes, we went straight, right up the middle.
We intersected the transpeninsular highway at 90 degrees and still we continued east into the desert. We drove several kilometers into an apparent
nothingness. I would have been concerned, but my host was so carefree and casual. After a number of kilometers from the highway I could see a cluster
of buildings in the distance. We entered the odd assemblage of fifteen or twenty one- and two-story structures spread across both sides of the road.
There were men and women crossing the dusty street and coming from and going into the buildings. Many of the buildings had large signs advertising the
availability of beer, music and dancing.
The driver stopped in front of one of these and jumped out and opened my door and with a bow and outstretched arm ushered me inside a dingy cantina.
I'm thinking maybe they sell wines and liquors to go also. No such luck.
We entered a dark, large and windowless room with a bar and number of tables, a scattering of chairs. A number of men and two women stood at the bar,
drinks scattered around. More men and women were sitting around the tables, some playing cards and dice. Rowdy recorded Mexican Mariachi music
radiated from a dusty, battered record player in a corner of the room. Several couples were dancing. Many of the men were drunk. A sign on the wall
told me that I could buy a dance for a peso, about a dime. I could judge from the scene that I could buy more than a dance for more than a peso. A
scene out of the early American west, dark and dank, smoky, smelly, sleazy. I realized then that this actually was the early American west. It was
just on another side of a border.
The place was a grimy dive and I was stuck with my friendly driver whose feelings I didn't want to hurt. But I had mixed emotions with the sorry sight
of this roomful of dusty cowboys and oily overweight prostitutes. We went to the bar and I ordered two beers, one for my driver and one for me. I told
him that my mediocre Spanish had perhaps conveyed the wrong message and that I really did just want a bottle of wine. I said that we should enjoy our
beer and get back to town because people would be worried about me.
We watched the women, loudly mouthed and dressed, sidling with their men around the dance floor, their bodies close and suggestive and rocking with
the music. I assumed that the second floors of the buildings were bedrooms. I was happy that this town existed for these people. But I had been ready
to leave before we entered.
We finished our beers and I convinced a red-eyed semi-conscious fellow beside us that I really couldn't, at the moment, enjoy the services they had to
offer, whatever they were and that I didn't know how to dance, thank you. We left, got back into the car and returned to Black Warrior, with my
apologies to the driver.
I looked at our various maps of Baja occasionally over the many years since my experience with the friendly drunks and hoars and have not found this
town identified. Until today. As I finished reviewing this before posting I opened my Baja Almanac and turned to N-29. There I spot it. It's just the
right distance from Guerrero Negro, out in the forlorn desert. And it does have a name, after all. It's Las Bombas. The Pumps. How appropriate.
Now, I have a little story about La Bombas too. When I first lived in GN in 1988, there werent any bar a woman could go to. Women who dont
carry cards (health certificates for prostitutes) werent allowed into the cantinas. So, in order to have a fun night out and go dancing...mis amigos
took me to Las Bombas...which looked like a little settlement. There were several little bars and "houses"...kinda like little hotel rooms.
My first time there, I was amazed how cool it was...it was like a real bar...tables, juke box, dancefloor with a disco ball and lights and lots of
smiling people dancing and drinking. Ladies were all dressed up...it was really fun. You bought little chips from the bar...different coloured ones
was for different "activities". It was the most fun place in GN where you could really let your hair down...and we often took tourists there to show
them a bit of local colour!!!
Things have come a long way since then...why I remember so many men staring at me as I drove through town in my pick up because no women drove
then...it wasnt that long ago...or was it?
Thanks everyone! I realize taking the paved road is faster, but exploring the dikes would be fun. The route I showed was generated with the help of
Google Maps' "directions" route generation (they have all the dikes mapped as possible routes). I checked the whole route to make sure there were no
gaps (water). Some of the older dikes seem to have these gaps.
Anyway I'd love to explore this route. But if there are explicit "no entry" signs, I would most likely not go in there.
Using Google Earth, I do see evidence of some kind of signs at the north end of the dikes where the route (magenta
line) leaves the north-south public-access road (cyan lines) to the whale campground here and starts going
east: 27.761113 N 113.999016 W
I did try cutting the corner farther east on one of the dirt roads a few years ago, but I gave up a few miles in. It was slow, bumpy, and tedious. I'm
up for slow & bumpy if it's interesting!
I guess you didnt understand where I said you need special permission and the salt works isnt giving out easily...especially not to foreigners as they
have had problems with things getting stolen. It is also very confusing with all the roads and heavy equipment working. There are manned gates at the
accesses.
Tourists are stealing salt mining equipment while on a vacation? Where do they put it in their campers?
I can imagine locals stealing for metal recycling maybe, but why are foreigners believed to be stealing from the salt operation... bizarro?
They really don't want anyone messing around their operation --- tourist included.
We drove that back road from the Tortugas road into Guerrero Negro once because we were taking the Reserve Rep to the office to pick up his truck.
He had the permission to pass and the gate keeper knows him.
As Shari said, not just anyone can get that permission; I do know that the local BA Bike team permission once, but they are locals. We were glad to
have the Rep with us as he knew the correct roads to take and as it was after a rain, some of the roads were not passable. Besides, we would have
never been able to get permission to pass the gate.
It is really ugly back there, but we were glad we had the opportunity to see it the one time.
I can understand this is a mine and not a public road. It was just Shari saying it is closed party due to foreigners stealing stuff from the mine
property I couldn't visualize.
Any photos since it is a forbidden area most won't be able to see?
I guess you didnt understand where I said you need special permission and the salt works isnt giving out easily...especially not to foreigners as they
have had problems with things getting stolen. It is also very confusing with all the roads and heavy equipment working. There are manned gates at the
accesses.
Thanks, shari & DianaT. I guess I was holding out hope that this might only apply to the area just southwest of
Guerrero Negro, which is marked as no access on my Baja Almanac, and not the areas southeast and farther south. But I am convinced now and will let it
be
I was tempted because Google Earth shows some Panaramio photos of users who have gone this route I was considering, and taken some geotagged photos in
there. But I guess these people got permission to go in, or work there etc.
Google Earth is how I plan my Baja exploration ideas these days -- looking for those geotagged photos it shows in interesting places.
David....I NEVER said foreigners were stealing stuff...highly unlikely as very few are in there...but more likely local folks were
responsible...deisel fuel, parts, equipment etc. have been stolen. They put a new gate at area 9 where we used to go bird watching too...this is the
road that curves left just before you get to the lagoon gate.
The road to the lagoon does go through the salt works so you can see the terrain and operation there. FYI, the salt works gives free tours at 10 &
2 if you go to their office and ask for one...the guide rides in your car..very interesting and you see the whole operation....or take a tour from a
tour operator like Malarrimo, Caracol Hotel, Cowboy Hotel, Marios tours or from Eddie at Las Cazuelas restaurant.
Thank you for clarifying Shari!
It was this line you posted about geoffff using the company roads that made it sound so "....especially not to foreigners as they have had problems
with things getting stolen."
The tour idea sound great! So we just need to have room for one passenger? Is there a cost or do we give him a tip, buy him lunch?
"If it were lush and rich, one could understand the pull, but it is fierce and hostile and sullen.
The stone mountains pile up to the sky and there is little fresh water. But we know we must go back
if we live, and we don't know why." - Steinbeck, Log from the Sea of Cortez
"People don't care how much you know, until they know how much you care." - Theodore Roosevelt
"You can easily judge the character of others by how they treat those who they think can do nothing for them or to them." - Malcolm Forbes
"Let others lead small lives, but not you. Let others argue over small things, but not you. Let others
cry over small hurts, but not you. Let others leave their future in someone else's hands, but not you." - Jim Rohn
"The best way to get the right answer on the internet is not to ask a question; it's to post the wrong answer." - Cunningham's Law
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