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Author: Subject: Just the facts
Osprey
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[*] posted on 8-16-2007 at 09:23 AM
Just the facts


Just the Facts Mamm


Baja California can kick your butt. There’s no place to hide. If you’re down here, it will get you, shake you up, fool you and spool you. It’s all fun, it’s all good.

It is such a place of dreams that most of the time I have chosen to write little fictional pieces about life down here. Now Bernie is getting good press with his Baja Remembered so for a little change of pace I’ll do a few “remembrances” of my own. No fiction this time; “only the names have been changed to……”.

The Strawberry Caper


This particular sunny day I couldn’t even hide out from the Baja happenings on my own patio. About ten AM Sam from Tahoe walks through my squeaky gate, gets bounced around by my two big dogs. He asked me if I knew a Dan Strawberry, a gringo who used to live in an old beat up Airstream across the street from the hardware store. I told him I’d never even heard of the guy.

Sam said a friend from Todos Santos had been visiting him, that the friend wanted to look up Strawberry, that they went to the old trailer and to no one’s surprise asked around with the neighbors only to learn he was long gone, didn’t know where, didn’t know when, etc. etc.

Now the plot thickened even though Sam had yet to spend the best part of one minute on my cool patio. Behind the old trailer they found a big concrete block storage building with a gimungous home-made iron door which now hung open after the thing had been violated, hacksawed and unhinged. Sam’s Todos Santos buddy just bugged out leaving Sam with a potential trial of character – the storage building had been burglarized but the burglars had left a substantial cache of valuables behind.

Sam and I agreed that it would be a shame to let Strawberry’s goods continue to be taken away by unknown miscreants – that it would embolden them, enrich them and encourage them to burglarize others in the community, leave the property owner in a pitiable situation upon his return. After we mulled the thing over with a cold Pacifico (the first of the day) we jumped in my little blue jeep and off we went to the local Cop Shop.

The Commandante was a white-haired handsome man by name of Carlos. He and two of his men followed us to the trailer to make an official report. The three of them just walked around and eyeballed everything asked us a bunch of questions we couldn’t answer, asked us what the hell did we expect them to do about it. Sam speaks perfect Spanish so he was able to get across the need for a metal-worker, fundador. We all knew Alfredo, the welder could make short work of repair to the door with his portable welder if he was available. Off we went to find Alfredo.

Alfredo was a handy guy and he sized up the job and then ran a couple of heavy gauge wires across the dirt street, commandeered somebody’s old power box by the church and got ready to weld. Then he asked us “who pays?”.

Well, we hadn’t thought that far. The cops said they had no money for long gone stupid gringos. Alfredo said the job was worth $20 dollars U.S.

“I only met the guy a couple of times, at parties, like that.” Sam said.

“I never even met the guy, Sam.” I said.

“Maybe we split the 20?” Sam said.

I walked to the gaping door, looked inside at all the stuff we were trying to save. I told Sam we ought to take Alfredo in there, see if we could find something of value he would exchange for the work. Sam was all for it. Alfredo was skeptical. Once inside Sam and I began to hold things up waving them at Alfredo and trying our best to sell him on the idea that the things were worth much more than 20 bucks. We looked like two sweaty hayseed auctioneers waving new paint brushes, big rolls of wire, tools of every size and description, power tools, light fixtures, PVC, paint, glue, tile, roof tile. No deal.

I found a big wooden box full of old fishing lures, tackle, a couple of reels. One of the reels was in fair condition and I was almost glad to hear from Alfredo that he did not fish. I took a 20 out of my pocket, got everybody’s attention, showed Sam and the cops that I was taking the reel, handing the 20 to Alfredo. Sam explained for me that when and if Strawberry came back I would return the reel to him (cleaned up – better than I got it) and he would give me back my 20.

Smiles all around. The cops drove off promising to come back for Alfredo and the welder. Sam bought a lock at the hardware store, gave me a key, kept one which he would give to the cops and we happily closed the Strawberry file.

Epilogue

I later found out that Strawberry was an ex lawman from Long Beach, that when he lived in the trailer he had some problems with the local dogs and killed one or two with a handgun. The police came and found several big handguns in the trailer, him without the bona fides and he was put on a plane, never to return.

1. Strawberry died in states
2. The place was later broken into again and emptied
3. Alfredo (a two-fisted drinker) moved to La Paz, committed suicide by cutting his own throat with a carpet knife.
4. I still have the key
5. I traded the 6.0 Penn for a smaller (but newer) 4.0 with which I have captured and eaten many, many food fish (and released my share of sail and marlin).
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Cypress
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[*] posted on 8-16-2007 at 10:00 AM


Osprey, Thanks for the story. That reel probably had some good Karma on it.:biggrin:
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Baja&Back
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[*] posted on 8-16-2007 at 10:17 AM


What a great story! Almost a novella in itself. Gonna keep that one on the first page of my Stories of Baja collection!



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Iflyfish
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[*] posted on 8-16-2007 at 02:39 PM


Great story. I like the sort it out "on the fly process" that ended up with you purchasing the reel. Real nice!

I once ran accross an abandoned hotel in Baja. I got there at the point where the locals had taken the plumbing but some great carved beams and stuff like that remained. There were piles of shells on the beach. Looked like they had been shipped in and dumped in piles for guests of the hotel to find as they strolled the beach. My buddy and I headed down to the beach to collect our share when the guard comes running, no, my bad, no one runs in Baja, walks down to us with arms flailing shouting "Cerado" "Privado" etc. as he saw me picking up various shells.

My response was to put my palms up and say, "no comprendeamo", "no speek Esaniole" and offered him a shell. He raised his voice repeating his mantra "Cerado", "Privado!" and so I lowered my head in shame and said "pardonoame", "no espanito" "so sorry" and took the shell from his hand, rummaged in my bucket and extracted an even better shell, which I handed to him.......He turned red, clenched his teeth and fists by his sides, turned around and marched back to the guard shack muttering "pinc...gringos!", "stupido grintgos" and stuff like that. I bit my cheek so hard it bled. I still have those shells and recall that scene every time I see them.

If anyone knows the history of that abandoned resort I would like to hear it. It was close to Conception Bay and looked like it was only open for a season or so. It looked to me like it was either a laundry facility or a jet set wet dream gone bad.

Love your stories Osprey

Iflyfish
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Osprey
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[*] posted on 8-16-2007 at 04:46 PM


Thanks fellas, Rick. I've spent a lot of time at Concepcion but I never heard of your resort. It's very possible that old building became a part of what was the resort at Playa Buena Fortuna (I think that was the name -- just north of Requeson). I give some Pueblo Speak lessons to visiting gringos -- I explain that Otto (pronounced Oh- Toe) means friend and send them on their way exploring and getting to know the friendly people around these parts.
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Cervisin
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[*] posted on 8-16-2007 at 05:10 PM
Old resort etc.


Hello Iflyfish,

I dont much about it, it's not a resort but just an older Hotel. I been there today and seen some gutting out activities (plumbing, windows etc.) and doubt that was official.

Anyway, I did like the place before, nice to go for brunch to. Now it will be torn down for some semi-highrise.

See todays pics of the Hotel Hacienda del Cortez here

The photos in todays post, a little history about the place at yesterdays post.




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Iflyfish
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[*] posted on 8-17-2007 at 09:27 AM


The trip I reafer to was the year after they built Hwy 1. The hotel was on the beach, down a dirt road, north of Conception, turn right at the cactus, and past the scallop midons and there it was.

Iflyfish
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