dthomas218
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Baja stories
I've made many trips to Baja over the years, and I thought I'd share some stories.
In 1992 I travelled to La Paz in a Volvo station wagon with my Dad. We pulled into Santa Rosalia in the late afternoon, and got the idea we should
drive up the canyon to the edge of town. The last big building was a dance hall, I suppose. It had a stage, a bar and some audio equipment. While we
ordered a beer a group of musicians wandered in, looking tired and ready for their own beers. One had a large guitarrón and one had an accordian. What
they didn't know was that my father played the accordian, a talent he learned in the 1940s. So with some sign language I conveyed that he could play
it, and they handed it over. He had never played a button accordian in his life but managed to make some music with the conjunto, and we stayed an
hour and made some friends.
On the same trip we stayed in the absolute cheapest place in La Paz. The mattress was an inch of foam and the next morning we were awoken by someone
angrily throwing plates around in the courtyard. As soon as we fell back to sleep a chainsaw fired up. I peeked out and saw someone making furniture.
We went back to sleep.
On another trip, this time with my wife, kids and brother, I rented horses in Mulege. They would not slow down for us, and my son got scared on his
mount. We rode out at the airport until I saw a plane circle, and decided we'd better get off the runway. Back at the hotel, we were told nonchalantly
that "these horses race on the weekend."
When in La Paz I always made a point of visiting Las Barritas, a local nightclub that caters to local college students. There was sawdust on the floor
and Beatle paraphenalia on the wall, and great Mexican-flavored rock that even my Dad liked. The owner had John Lennon hair and glasses to complete
the setting.
At Mision San Borja, we hung around in total silence until the mission's docent, Juan, appeared. We and he were the only souls for miles around. He
graciously offered to show us around for a small gratuity. We inquired about his life, and he announced that he would have Internet access "next
year." I was astonished, and asked him how he would get a signal. He pulled out his cell phone and told me that he could hook up with it.
Coming down the Sea of Cortez south of San Felipe at dusk, we came upon a truck in a ditch with a bunch of guys around it. We slowed up behind them 50
yards, parked, and kept our lights on. A second truck with an attached rope was drying to pull the first truck out of the ditch, when suddenly the
rope snapped. I had seen a man standing between the trucks but thankfully he was not hurt. As we watched it became appearent that they were all pretty
drunk, so we prudently drove off. They gave us a wave.
A mother and her kids showed up on a beach at Bahia Magdalena, selling fresh shelled green peas. We had been subsisting on camping food and those were
the best peas I've ever tasted.
We decided to visit Tijuana one evening but quickly realized it was a big mistake. On the main drag there were lots of 15-year-old gringos drunk on
the street and barfing in the gutter. So we walked a few blocks away to get some air, and we heard folk music wafting from a 3rd story balcony. We
eventually found our way up to the place. It was open mike night and well-dressed Mexican young people singing beautiful music to each other.
On the very first trip we entered Mexico on a Sunday, and following our travel guidebook we intended to get our tourist card in Maneadero, well south
of Ensenada. We drove back and forth on the dusty main road, then drove back to Ensenada. We ended up at the visitor's center, where the young
official assured us no tourist card was necessary. For good measure he wrote us a letter on stationery, stating that if there were any problems, to
contact him directly.
In La Paz I saw signs for Musica Folklorica at the Cultural Center. With my Dad and son we attended a concert by Óscar Chávez, who I later learned is
a sort of Pete Seeger of Mexico. Several hundred people were in the audience, all dressed up, and not a gringo among them, except us. He sang
accompanied by several acoustic instruments, and by the end of the evening many people had tears streaming down their faces. I was extremely moved and
this is a memory I'll always cherish.
Dan
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dtbushpilot
Ultra Nomad
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Location: Buena Vista BCS
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Great stories Dan, and welcome to Nomads......dt
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David K
Honored Nomad
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Mood: Have Baja Fever
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Thanks for the background Dan... fun stuff! Welcome!!
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ckiefer
Nomad
Posts: 258
Registered: 12-12-2007
Location: LaJolla
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So many talented writers on this site. Is there anyway to collect all the baja stories and put them in their own category? 
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vandenberg
Elite Nomad
Posts: 5118
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Mood: mellow
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Dan,
Thanks for sharing.........and welcome to the forum.
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Lauriboats
Senior Nomad
Posts: 563
Registered: 9-6-2006
Location: Mulege/Bahia Asuncion
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Mood: Loving life in Baja
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Sounds like fun times in baja---welcome.
What we see depends mainly on what we look for.
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Paulina
Ultra Nomad
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Registered: 8-31-2002
Location: BCN
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Welcome to Nomads. Thanks for sharing your stories.
P<*)))>{
\"Well behaved women rarely make history.\" Laurel Thatcher Ulrich
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ckiefer
Nomad
Posts: 258
Registered: 12-12-2007
Location: LaJolla
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| Quote: | Originally posted by MonkeyNuztBC
I have a story. For the right price, I will release it to the masses |
Let the auction begin.... at 1 cent, do I hear 2 cents?
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Mexray
Super Nomad
Posts: 1016
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: California Delta
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Mood: Baja Time
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Several years ago, when returning North from Mulege...
...my wife and I decided to stay the night in San Ignacio.
It was a Saturday, and as we approached the town square, we noticed preparations for a grand party. There were people decorating tables, and a vender
had stacked cases of beer and soft drinks next to his tubs of ice.
It was late afternoon, and we wandered up the road to have dinner...our waitress told us a grand Quinceañera was about to take place in town...I
gathered a prominent family's daughter was the recipient, due to the size of the preparations.
Finishing dinner, we strolled back to the plaza to observe all the action...a big box van had arrived, and was being unloaded by a 'band' of
musicians...along with their huge stereo speakers...there was going to be hot time in old San Ignacio tonight!
I believe we were the only gringo's in town that night, and as we stood on the sidelines, we were welcomed to stay and join in the festivities...we
kind of stood in the shadows but later got in a couple of dances when the band wailed away till the wee hours!
As evening approached, the decorations were in place, the mission bells tolled, and family moved out of the grand mission doorway, and across the
street to the plaza...
We watched as the children of all ages were dressed in their finest outfits, carrying flowers and green branches, formed two lines for the young lady,
and her family to make their entry...the ceremony was grand, and at last the young lady was aided by her companion to change from her flats into high
heels and perform her first dance as a young lady...
As the band blared away, the party began in earnest...the town plaza was filled by more people than one can imagine, in that normally 'sleepy'
village...familys and farm hands in their finest gear must have come from miles around!...it was fun to watch the young 'single' gals walk in small
groups around the plaza perimeter, and the young 'single' guys walk in the opposite direction - so they could all exchange glances of each other as
they passed...this 'procession' seemed to go on for a couple of hours!
There were a number of 'tricked out' Mexican pickups parked around the plaza, with their owners and buddies enjoying the party atmosphere with a few
beers in hand...a good time being had by all.
Alas, we headed back to our lodgings for the night as the party played on...what a great time to visit little, sleepy, San Ignacio!
According to my clock...anytime is \'BAJA TIME\' & as Jimmy Buffett says,
\"It doesn\'t use numbers or moving hands It always just says now...\"
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Bajahowodd
Elite Nomad
Posts: 9274
Registered: 12-15-2008
Location: Disneyland Adjacent and anywhere in Baja
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I've encountered a number of wonderful fiestas at the zocalo in San Ignacio over the years. Almost felt like I was at Disneyland Mexico. Beautiful
people. Amazing fun.
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Salsa
Nomad
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Registered: 2-4-2003
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Fred Hoctor wrote a piece in Western Outdoor News about Flair Guns in Baja. I think he said there were legal (maybe depending on who was inspecting
you).
I wrote this after my experience.
"In July 1999 while returning from San Lucas Cove we were stopped at the
last federal inspection at one of the Ensenada toll booths, and they
found some spare flair gun shells in my boat. We had removed the flair
gun because the Vagabundos said it was illegal and you could go straight
to jail.
We almost got an extended vacation in Mexico. After being released to go
on twice, and their calling their supervisors, we finally got to go.
If you are correct, someone forgot to tell the federales. I am not
going to risk it this year."
Don
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ZThomas
Junior Nomad
Posts: 62
Registered: 4-9-2008
Location: Reno
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Lifted from my book:
Running out of Road
As soon as my friend, who we’ll call Joe, pulled into the left lane to make the pass, I knew it was wrong. We were northbound 20 miles or so short of
San Ignacio after a successful early-season yellowtail trip to Mulegé and Loreto. The semi had been in front of us for maybe 10 minutes, the driver
knew we were there, we could see plenty far ahead to know there was no oncoming traffic, and, strictly speaking, there was enough pavement for both
rigs with at least a couple of feet left over. But it was still wrong.
The road was curving gently to the left around the base of a rocky bluff as Joe put the pedal on the floor and swung out into the other lane. It was
banked to the left too, probably a little more than you’d expect given the radius of the curve. I think now that it was a combination of the banking
and the guardrail that began on the left just as we were coming fully alongside the semi that made Joe squeeze over toward the centerline. I’m
guessing he felt the banking pulling him down a bit toward that guardrail and just overcorrected.
Whatever the case, I’ll never forget watching the outside edge of the passenger-side mirror as it hovered for what seemed like a full minute within no
more than an inch or two of the semi’s big, faded-blue front fender. And then, in that same mirror, watching the clamp-on rod-holder sticking out from
the starboard side of my bow rail pass just under — really, under — the big driver-side mirror of the semi, and then partly hearing but
mainly feeling the terrible KAAWHAANG! as the protruding lug nuts on the semi’s left front wheel tore into the galvanized steel of the fender
on the right side of my trailer and then shredded the front tire and mangled the wheel.
Joe jerked reflexively to the left and I felt the left front tire of my truck drop for a sickening split-second into the strip of dirt between the
pavement and the guardrail and then pop back up onto the road and then we were clear. In my mirror, I could see remnants of the ruined tire spinning
off into the air and the semi’s highbeams flashing on and off and its driver’s fist in the sunlight behind the windshield.
It was a good couple of miles before we found a place to get off the road, and of course the semi followed us out into the glass-littered hardpan. No
sense putting off the inevitable, I figured, and met the driver halfway between our rigs. He was mightily peeed, but thankfully he didn’t hit me right
off the bat, and I apologized as completely as I could in my mediocre Spanish. Thankfully too, there was amazingly no damage to his truck, and after
telling me how stupid I was and cursing mostly to himself and kicking the dirt and hitting the hood of his truck with the heel of his hand for a few
minutes, he climbed back in, still disgusted with the situation, and left.
With few exceptions, Baja is a very friendly place, and most of the locals make a point of making you feel welcome and wanted and of delicately
glossing it over when you do something idiotic. Considering the circumstances, this semi driver was in fact very friendly; I would have kicked my ass,
or Joe’s. But he certainly didn’t make any effort to gloss over our idiocy, and I’ve never felt like such an ass — such a foreign, in-the-way ass — in
Baja as I did as I did watching him roll away over the next rise.
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