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Pompano
Elite Nomad
Posts: 8194
Registered: 11-14-2004
Location: Bay of Conception and Up North
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Trips to Pta. Chivato...'Back In The Day'
PTA. CHIVATO –PHOTOS FROM BACK IN THE DAY
These are accounts and old photos of Chivato from ‘Baja Back In The Day.’ From 1975-1987. I hope you enjoy this walk back in time with me.
I’m sure it’s no surprise that I have quite a few photos, but never fear, I’ll be posting them in installments so as not to overwhelm you. Please
forgive the fuzziness of a few of them. It seems my cats have learned to scan photos and type.
Naw, those are the ‘captures’ I’ve made made from movie frames and they lack the sharpness of normal photographs. Personally, I think the process
makes them look like….Daguerreotypes? Okay then, how about …Tintypes? Ambrotypes? Stereographs? Fuzzy fotos? Well if you don’t like those....look
first, then pick your own adjective.
The old place has changed considerably today. You’d hardly recognize it from the old days. A long string of houses are now where there was once only
a lonely stretch of beach and shells. Comforts are available at every local. Well, that’s okay…it’s progress and everyone deserves their piece of
paradise.
Flying over Punta Chivato a few years ago.
1977 Punta Chivato – Hotel and airstrip (pista)
1977 The Casa Grande
Punta Chivato.
We arrived there by plane, by boat, by buggy, and by car. And then, there was the time we came by taxi…on the insistant advice of the Mulege police
chief. We had many years of Baja events with Bill Alvarado, Doc Lyons, and George Staples..owners and operators of the place for that period of
time. (Lou Federico built the original resort and hotel in 1966 after a few years of planning and preparation.) Boating, fishing, hunting, camping,
diving, flying, windsurfing, desert trekking, carrying-on, rescuing senoritas, saving beer bottles….you name it, we did it. Maybe these scenes will
spark some of ‘your’ memories of days gone by.
THE ROAD TO PTA. CHIVATO (No…not an old Bob Hope and Bing Crosby movie) Perhaps ‘road’ is too good a term. Back in the day, it was
little better than a goat path…when passable at all.
The approximate 12 miles from the highway to the hotel was a real nightmare most of the time. (Distances changed with road conditions and grader
driver’s temperament.) Good old ‘4 or 40’ type.
WASHBOARD ROADS were the norm back in the day. And still are…some things never change, right? A true old Baja trail. That
4 or 40 saying summed it up very well. You could take your sweet time…or you could pick your teeth up on the way back.
Sometimes you’d rather drive on the shoulder as it was lots smoother.
ROAD DUST CLOUD….A good oncoming traffic signal. You could tell by the dust storm coming!
We, the crew from the Casa Grande, would often have impromptu races from the hotel to the highway at Palo Verde. About 12 miles as the beers bounced.
We would use our walkie-talkies and CB radios and station observers every so often…just in case anybody got on the track in the middle. With tall
flags attached we’d race against each other or just the clock. I believe my record time of 20 minutes stood for the length of time we had those
wild-burro races. I knew the course very well, and used my DU Blazer with deflated tires to cushion the rough parts. Shown here on a sharptail hunt
in the Badlands of ND in the same time period.
Our first Road Signs were a nice surprise.
I always got a chuckle out of this restriction that friend George put up. If you were a first timer, how the hell were you supposed to know how to
get the hotel? The only access trail came to 4-way intersection at the air strip. It’s true we all disliked crowds, but this was a bit much.
Another sign added later on.
This photo shows the old Casa Grande where I occasionally stayed ashore with Bill A., Doc Lyons, and George S. It had a nice fishing and boat pier
with steps down to the beach.
CASA GRANDE FROM THE WATER
The hotel as seen from water. At this time the empty hotel rooms were rented out for $5 per night. A bare bones room, with no facilities. Nothing,
no furniture, nada…just a bare room out of the weather….but with a killer view and a cozy fireplace. Firewood was extra. Delivered free for
senoritas 
Not a bad view for $5 a night.
Top left is an always-active Doc shaking out a rug. Then some lobster diving off the nearby points.
George was the champion scuba diver among us. Those biggest bugs were truly monsters. George was a very happy and active fellow...always on the go.
His manner fell somewhere between a human ray of sunshine and an over-caffeinated hamster.
Playing cards with George on a ferry crossing from Guaymas. Also shown is a 2-story stone home we co-owned on the hill above Conception Bay’s Posada
development. Fine times were had there, too...even though you had to put a coaster on top of your glass to catch the bugs and chewings falling from
the palapa roof. Oh well, just some of the prices we paid for enjoying life in Baja.
A short Doc story here….
‘Doc’ was a retired Navy doc with a ton of great stories...especially for the young ladies that flocked around him. He suffered from skin cancer,
melanomas, and we took him to the Naval Hospital in San Diego for treatments and skin-snipping from time to time. One hospital stay required a little
V-shaped skin surgery on an ear and left a noticeable notch.
One evening a young gal asked Doc how he lost that V-shaped chunk from his earlobe? He rose to the occasion and with a twinkle in his eye, told the
lass that… he was chopping his way through the jungles of Brazil one day and a fer-de-lance, a very poisonous snake, dropped out of a tree, landed on
his shoulder and bit his ear. “Quick as a wink, I swung my machete and chopped that bite mark out of my ear. Saved my life, my dear. Would you
like to see where the crocodile bit me when I was wading back to camp.”
We always rolled our eyes at that one…..
Some great diving times. Never a problem getting enough for dinner.
So much action! Thankfully, during those early years in Baja we were a lot younger. Seems so long ago….was anyone ever that young? Hah..the saying
goes…”Those were the good ol’ days”.., but today’s are not so bad, either.
Being golfers all, we started the very first golf course in the area. I used my buggy as a golf cart to make the rounds and search for sliced
out-of-bounders. Rattlers on the ‘green’ meant you got a ‘gimme’…and you didn’t have to putt out. As a real plus, my Co-Pilot was a nurse.
A few years later. Here, I’m trying to avoid being mauled by one of Bill’s bobcat-manx crosses. Quite an armful. We trapped desert cottontails for
their live dinners. Naw, always we fed them Puss n’Boots….honest.
FLYING AT PUNTA CHIVATO
I couldn’t count the number of times we flew in and out of Chivato’s airstrip. We maintained it with an old drag and pickup. My flying buddy Dusty
would often camp on the strip under his wing. We shared some fantastic times flying out of Chivato for the Pacific and great beaches. Being in the
flying business for all of his adult life, Dusty has quite a collection of airplanes and flew most of them to Chivato or Coyote Bay at one time or
another.
Dusty story. Dusty was an avid fan of the old tv series, ‘Dallas’. One day I told him to come with me out onto the hotel patio to meet
somebody. He was dumbstruck when he met hotel guest Larry Hagman (who was always a bit tipsy). I took Dusty’s photo with his camera of
Dusty sitting on Hagman’s lap. He was so happy with that photo that he had it enlarged full-size for his rec room back home.
AIRPLANE COLLAGE at the Chivato pista.
My old Pompano docked at the Sta. Rosalia Marina.
POMPANO AT DOCK…I took these while on a beer/ice-run to the marina at Sta. Rosalia. After being at sea gunk-holing for a while you
felt like you’d found UTOPIA at long last…with ICED BEERS! So when the Pompano’s larder needed replenishing this was a very
convenient marina to dock, fill with fuel, water, and walk around Santa Rosalia to shop for whatever. I can remember that the town was always well
represented by the fairer sex. The marina itself was a great place to meet somebody.
We had so many great fishing days and perfect starlight nights aboard that great old cabin cruiser. Sleeping outside on top of the large padded
engine cover…looking up at the stars…listening to whales blowing.. unknown things breaking the surface...the comforting sound of a working bilge
pump. Magical and thrilling times…
Normally fishing within sight of the hotel, we caught everything that swims at one time or another. Compared to today, you would not have believed
the sheer abundance and variety in that part of the Sea of Cortez.
Even when Co-pilot chummed with carrots, we caught fish……yup, ‘carrots’…sigh. 
Times were always truly amazing…..as you shall see.
To be continued:
[Edited on 11-30-2014 by Pompano]
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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captkw
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pompano !!
As always...sweet !!
[Edited on 1-4-2015 by captkw]
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David K
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What a great time travel trip report!!
Thank you Roger, very much.
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Hook
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One day you really must do a co-pilot montage.
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vandenberg
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Great report Roger.
Those were THE DAYS indeed, although mine only start in '77.
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Russ
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Posts: 6742
Registered: 7-4-2004
Location: Punta Chivato
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Thank you !
Bahia Concepcion where life starts...given a chance!
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dtbushpilot
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Nice story Roger, thanks....
"Life is tough".....It's even tougher if you're stupid.....
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Marc
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More
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4x4abc
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absolutely loved it!
Harald Pietschmann
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LancairDriver
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Great story and pictures Roger. Actually Lou Federico must have built the hotel sometime in the sixties, as he was still at Hotel Mulege in 1961 as
written in his book "One Hell Of A Ride", an excellent book by the way, for those who haven't read it.
Does anyone remember the huge number of whales that beached on the bay in a winter storm just on the north side of the Chivato peninsula in the late
70's I think? Flying over that disaster was very depressing. Those years you outlined so well here were the last of the Baja "Golden Years" in MHO.
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David K
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Quote: Originally posted by LancairDriver  | Great story and pictures Roger. Actually Lou Federico must have built the hotel sometime in the sixties, as he was still at Hotel Mulege in 1961 as
written in his book "One Hell Of A Ride", an excellent book by the way, for those who haven't read it.
Does anyone remember the huge number of whales that beached on the bay in a winter storm just on the north side of the Chivato peninsula in the late
70's I think? Flying over that disaster was very depressing. Those years you outlined so well here were the last of the Baja "Golden Years" in MHO.
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The 60's yes... Erle Stanley Gardner documented it in 1966 and these images were in his 1967 book 'Off the Beaten Track in Baja'. He shows the
owner/builder as a man named Dixon Collins...
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Meany
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THANKS. Love the Old shots of the Hotel under construction....
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KaceyJ
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DavidK
Dixon just recently died this year
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David K
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Can you tell us more about him? How was he affiliated with Lou Federico, who is credited with building the hotel after Gardner gives that credit to
Dixon?
Thank you!
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capt. mike
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great history.
formerly Ordained in Rev. Ewing\'s Church by Mail - busted on tax fraud.......
Now joined L. Ron Hoover\'s church of Appliantology
\"Remember there is a big difference between kneeling down and bending over....\"
www.facebook.com/michael.l.goering |
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LancairDriver
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| Quote: Originally posted by David K |
Can you tell us more about him? How was he affiliated with Lou Federico, who is credited with building the hotel after Gardner gives that credit to
Dixon?
Thank you! |
Lou Federico explains the evolution of the hotel quite well in his book "One Hell Of A Ride". He clearly states Dixon was the financial backer using
Barbara Honeywell Booth's divorce cash from her husband Otis Booth of LA Times fame. Dixon hooked up with her and divorced his wife of the time. Lou
was the "hands on" builder.
This is all from Lou's book.
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Skipjack Joe
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Rankings
I thought the Italian copilot was more attractive than this one.
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Pacifico
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Great stuff, Roger!
"Plan your life as if you are going to live forever. Live your life as if you are going to die tomorrow." - Carlos Fiesta
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Water_Girl
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Registered: 11-30-2014
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Thanks for the Photos and memories
Just found this blog, thanks to my cousin...Doc Lyons was my Grandfather. In 1982, on a whim, another cousin flew in from Hawaii to San Francisco
where I was living, and we drove down to Baja to surprise him.
We drove straight through, without stopping, from S.F. After 18 or so hours on smooth roads, we hit the washboards in the middle of the night, a
relatively high speed. What a surprise!...finally got to Pta Chivato about 30 hours after we started the drive just after sunrise in the morning. I
don't have much in terms of photos of the trip...but I remember the beautiful empty beach, and the wonderful seafood...and the roads.
Thanks again for great post
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Pompano
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Posts: 8194
Registered: 11-14-2004
Location: Bay of Conception and Up North
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| Quote: Originally posted by Water_Girl | Just found this blog, thanks to my cousin...Doc Lyons was my Grandfather. In 1982, on a whim, another cousin flew in from Hawaii to San Francisco
where I was living, and we drove down to Baja to surprise him.
We drove straight through, without stopping, from S.F. After 18 or so hours on smooth roads, we hit the washboards in the middle of the night, a
relatively high speed. What a surprise!...finally got to Pta Chivato about 30 hours after we started the drive just after sunrise in the morning. I
don't have much in terms of photos of the trip...but I remember the beautiful empty beach, and the wonderful seafood...and the roads.
Thanks again for great post |
Nice to hear from you, Water_Girl, and thank you for your memories of Pta. Chivato. Your grandfather was a favorite Baja personality of mine. We had
some good times together planting trees and flower bushes at Chivato so long ago. As you probably know, he had a very green thumb.
Also the stone house that Doc planned and ram-rodded at Posada on the hillside. I fondly remember a space we called 'The Mole Hole'...a re-enforced
storage space in the basement that could only be accessed through a hinged door in the floor. What a fine time in Baja that was...
[Edited on 11-30-2014 by Pompano]
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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