Osprey
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3694
Registered: 5-23-2004
Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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Just the Facts #2 -- 21 mango Daiquiries
Just the Facts #2
21 Mango Daiquiris
A long time ago I had a client that built service stations. They did a land office business for awhile in the west and over time I got to know the
owners, Dick and Dave, pretty well. Both young, ambitious guys with families, they worked like beavers and at times got way too many things on their
plates. They needed a break.
From time to time I would call on them, take them to lunch and maybe show them photos of my fishing trips to Baja California, drop off some dorado or
sierra when I had more than I could eat. When they saw the pix of La Serenidad in Mulege, saw the little landing strip they made plans to fly down in
their Grumman Tiger Cat airplane to fish and recharge, they invited me along.
We had good flying weather on the way down and a smooth landing at our destination augured well for a fun, safe trip to Mexico. I’m not a pilot but I
know airplane fueling in Baja can be a chore so I insisted we check in and, if the fuel guy was around, we fill the plane up right there and then.
After check in we walked back out to the plane, Dick got in to taxi it to the fueling station and it wouldn’t start. Dead battery. One cell was dry
and since the little plane had just had its annual, they were surprised and angry. We pushed the plane to the station, filled it up and headed for
the pool – we would deal with the battery problem tomorrow.
Dave joined us in the pool, walks by the river, dinner, all the things the resort is famous for except the booze – Dave was a Mormon. So Dick and I
drank his share of the smooth but dangerous mango daiquiris at the swim up bar. The next day we rented a cab, spent the whole day snorkeling,
swimming, fishing and just relaxing at the beach at El Requeson in Bahia Concepcion. We celebrated the end of the day with lobster and shrimp and
clams and (of course) more mango drinks.
Dave and I had to physically drag Dick out of the sack before first light the next morning – we threw him in the shower, poured coffee down him and
met the fishing guide at the river ramp just as the sun came up. The pilot had a miserable first hour on the water but after a while he came out of
it; we had more good weather and caught enough dorado for a big dinner at the hotel with a little left over for the cooler.
When we checked out the next morning we were surprised to learn that a big part of our bill was the 21 mango daiquiris Dick and I managed to consume
and bill to the room. For the battery problem we asked a gringo in a station wagon to give the plane a jump. It turned right over but we had only
power to the engine; not one spark of electricity to the instrument panel or the $8,000 dollars worth of radio/navigation gear.
We took off anyway, fought our way through the edge of a giant weather cell hanging between us and Mexicali. After we buzzed the tower there, sat
down to check in, show our papers, the storm had gathered strength – with no radio we were told to stand down until we got clearance. We got a motel
room in town, impatiently waited out the weather while the Alpha Male boss men burned up the payphones talking to headquarters, trying to run the
business from afar. Before we hit the sack I called a local cab company, asked them to send a cab to our motel in the morning at 6 AM and asked that
the cab bring jumper cables --- well, it worked in Mulege!
When we got to the airport about first light it was still closed. The sky had cleared and Dick and Dave had made return promises they intended to
keep. We got over the 10 foot chainlink fence, had the taxi pull up close, pushed the plane over by the cab, snaked the jumper cables through the
wire, hooked it up and started the engine. It got a little hairy, at least for me, when Dave and I could not push the plane back against the nose
wheel – it flipped and flopped like the ones on shopping carts. Dick had to take his feet off the brakes, deplane and sit on the tail to get the nose
wheel up and out of the way while the prop was still spinning furiously a few stingy feet to my left. That worked and soon we were airborn with no
big problems awaiting us at Sky Harbor, the plane’s home base outside Henderson, Nevada where we didn’t much need a radio.
It’s been a lot of years but I can still taste those daiquiris and I can still see the lanky cabby standing dangerously close to the prop watching us
jump start the plane. He seemed unafraid but confused. Fingers through the chainlink, a quizzical smile on his face he might have been thinking
“Loco gringos. They can afford to buy a fancy plane like that but they’re too cheap to get a new battery.”
Epilogue
Back in my office I called and called until I got hold of Dick on the phone. I was dying to know what was wrong with the plane, the engine, the
battery.
He told me the mechanic said it was a loose wire. I suggested he instruct the mechanic to buy and install a meter/light of some kind; about an $8
dollar expenditure I would suppose. The thing would be powered by a single C cell flashlight battery and would flash, when there was a problem, LOOSE
WIRE, LOOSE WIRE. Jesus Christo, pilots are a funny bunch.
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Iflyfish
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3747
Registered: 10-17-2006
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Good one! Love your stories.
We once ran the Rio Forte outside of El Forte to the coast in our twelve foot car topper. The river serpentines like a snake and we caught something
different on each cast. White river dolphins, caught a bright colored snake on one cast, gut it loose before it hit the deck....shrimp the size of
your palm........caimans....squawking birds etc.
It was our first journey into mango swamps and I dumbly used the odd shaped stumps as land markers as we wandered down stream through the ever
widening delta. Caiman slid down the banks as we passed.
We got close enough to the surf to hear it when it was time to go back...sun lowering on the horizon and gas running low. The tide of course had risen
and all of my landmarks were under three feet of water......I had lost my crumb trail....big time!
Fortunately my buddy, who was raised in a logging camp in Lebanon, Oregon, had a homing pigeon on him that did not quit. He got us back to the truck
with one cup of fuel left!!! An amazing bit of navigation on his part indeed. I kissed the soggy ground......not a really smart thing to do, but apt
for the moment. I still have visions of those large caimans slipping soundlessly into the water and the memories of my vision of us sleeping under the
over turned boat. Whew!!
Iflyfish
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