Baja Bernie
`Normal` Nomad Correspondent
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The Magical 'Natural' sounds of Baja
Please feel free to add your own.
Even the 'dust' of Baja has a most soothing sound if you well just listen.
My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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Bajalero
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Bernie ,
You've touched upon one of the most important things to me in Baja.
It is so rare to be able to find a place where there is no sound these days. That's what I like about some of the less frequented areas of the
peninsula. No cars or trucks , sirens, or construction or planes buzzing over. Places where you can only hear your heart beat
Dust?
man you have some good ears
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DianaT
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Waking up and knowing the weather outside by the sound of the waves.
Bernie, one of the first things that attacked me when we returned to the US this time was noise, noise, noise. Just walking down to our local cafe my
senses felt assaulted by the human made noises in the air.
Sound, a great topic
Diane
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Baja Bernie
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Bajalero
And no jake-brakes on the trucks which they seem to play like a very loud musical instrument.
Yes! Dust....just listen as it puffs up around your boots as you walk through the desert and remember the saying...."Once the dust of Baja rests upon
your shoulder you may never shake it off"
Yep! If you listen, closely, Baja sounds like a very soft concert and at other times it sounds like the 1812 Overture....Think hurricanes.
My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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Halboo
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Several years back, I got up very early one morning to fish from the rocks south of Loreto.
The only sound besides the splash of jumping fish was the whoosh of breathing whales..........
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Osprey
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In the south, we wait for silence of summers
UNDER THE INFLUENCE
I've been putting this off. Now is the time to explain about the wind, while it howls and irritates. On this Mexican peninsula, trapped between the
mighty Pacific ocean and the slender but profound Gulf of California, the north wind blows fiercely in the winter months. Today is the first day of
February.
No one can say, with any certainty, what brings the wind, when it will come, when it will abate. The wind is not a thing to be easily identified,
stuck in a box labeled WIND. Unseen things defy description. Weather science fails, language confuses --- my particular wind is neither Nor'easter,
nor Chinook, Sirocco, Mistral. It has many names, none that I wish to mention.
This wind, my wind, is an evil force --- for every small pleasure it gives, a thousand ills it measures. For every smiling sailor, wind-surfer,
there are ten thousand cheerless souls huddled low, backs to the north, waiting for the salvation of abatement, silence. Raucous shorebirds are blown
into the sky by shotgun blasts of stinging beach sand, tumbling like chaff, buffeted like broken kites until they can rise, stabilize, drop down to
find a safer place in the lee. Brilliant orioles, dusky thrushes shrink and shiver in the underbrush.
Like an unseen star, known only by the celestial bodies it influences or the charm some sub-atomic quanta own, the wind can only be defined by its
effects. The sunny summer faces of the people in this pueblo are changed, hardened, graven. A crust has formed over every healthy, pliant surface.
Moisture is a fading memory. Momentary abatements tease while gouts of dust-filled mountains of power rattle the windows, whip the delicate palm
fronds into ragged strings. It is strange -- how a thing that pushes, shoves seems able to suck, siphon, parch the lifejuice from every thing it
touches.
There is no place to hide. The wind conducts a tireless and frenzied orchestra; the sound, just inches away, outside the house or hut or cave
irritates, unnerves and punishes those sheltered no less than those who had to venture forth to work or travel. There are no intermissions --
swishing susurations, whispered water sounds, steam escaping, explosions, clatterings, scraping, the rubbing, creaking, rattling of everything the
wind is pummeling, back and forth, in all the directions the things can be forced to go.
The terrible wind has had its way with this little part of Mexico. Crops wither in the fields, tools lay idle, rusting in the box. Fishermen lean on
the gunnels of their small boats, measure the breakers thundering over the reef, eyes straining to see the small island to the north. It is lost in
the sea-mist along with their curses.
The total influence of the wind is very hard to measure. Oh, you can see all the things it has broken, twisted, battered and rendered useless -- you
can guess at all the damage the blowing dust, like fine brown flour, has done to gears and wheels and circuits of everything not hermetically sealed
or submersed in water. You can never know how many spirits, once filled with joy, it has shriveled, ruined --- how many lives it has tattered and
unraveled. How many placid summers will it take to heal the terrible memory of one punishing winter?
When winter comes perhaps only the writers thrive; it has been said "misery is their mead." Not for me -- the wind does not inspire. My words are
neither sermon nor sonnet, they are whimpers. I wait, cowering with the others, for remission of the malaise, a silent dawn where nothing stirs or
rustles.
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Paulina
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Bernie,
Here's where your question took me:
Just now in my baja mind I was holding my breath underwater so I could hear a pod of dolphins swimming by.
P<*)))><
\"Well behaved women rarely make history.\" Laurel Thatcher Ulrich
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marv sherrill
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"Seek the winds for wisdom, the mountains for peace,
ride the waves of knowledge until you can be:
one with the universe, eternity's child I'm told
never looks for tomorrow, and she never grows old"
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Gypsy Jan
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Mood: Depends on which way the wind is blowing
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The Winter Winds of Baja
I love this time of year.
For the most part, the morning sky is clear with just a slight edge of cool to the temperature.
Around noon, a strong wind from the southwest starts to build up strength (a southeasterly?). Whitecaps form, the gulls screech and complain because
they can't land easily.
The ocean facing windows in the house rattle and bang.
These are the sounds of my Baja
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow mindedness.”
—Mark Twain
\"La vida es dura, el corazon es puro, y cantamos hasta la madrugada.” (Life is hard, the heart is pure and we sing until dawn.)
—Kirsty MacColl, Mambo de la Luna
\"Alea iacta est.\"
—Julius Caesar
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Baja&Back
Senior Nomad
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Location: Vancouver, Canada / todo de Baja
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Mood: Rarin' to go South!
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The "sound" of desert ...
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Eli
Super Nomad
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Mood: Some times Observing, sometimes Oblivious.
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Once when I was up in the Sierra, West of highway 1, I sat and listened to a sound of silence so intense that the noise made by the simple filing of
my nails was obtrusive. That silence and the beating of hummingbird wings are some of my favorite sounds. Thanks Bernie, for taking my mind there for
a moment of peace.
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Baja Bernie
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What a lovely lady she is.
Love it—wind keens and cleanses as the white caps appear. The dolphins speak as they silently sail by. Gulls screech and pipers pipe. The osprey
soar, hear the wind ruffling their feathers. Pelicans, so silent in a row, hurtle themselves into the sea with a loud splash.
The desert whistles and moans, its roar at times pain the ears and pressures the mind. Windows rattle and bang.
High in the Sierra winds scream, leaves rustle, and new born streams hiss and bubble as they rush on their way into the desert sands below.
Each season has its own distinct noises and sounds but they all share the silence we all come to seek.
A hummingbird hums and carries the spirit of a new day.
See Marv’s poem and realize that she will never allow us to grow old—or even in some cases— up.
Sure would like some of you ‘capers’ to describe the sounds of the hurricanes as they drench the southern shores.
And what of the sounds of the sun, the stars, the clouds, and the moon.
Edit.....and now the crackling of a camp fire thanks to Paulina's last post.
[Edited on 10-15-2007 by Baja Bernie]
My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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Paulina
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And what of the sounds of.... the stars, and the moon.
When my son was three years old, he and I spent our first of many summers in Bahia, just the two of us. Our evening tradition was to sit together on
one lounge chair, his head resting on my chest as he sat in my lap.
The chores had been done, dinner long over, questions and short discussions of our day concluded, leaving the campfire to be the only light and sound
to occupy the evening before going to bed.
One night as we sat there watching the fire, the bugs flying in attracted to the light, occasionally looking up at the stars we both noticed one star
inparticular that seemed a bit bigger than the rest. It was directly over the top of Horsehead Island and the oddest thing about it was that it kept
getting bigger and seemed to be advancing like a train's headlight through a tunnel.
I could feel his body start to tense, his shoulders and head shrink lower and lower, shrinking into my body as he and I watched this shooting star as
it seemed to be coming straight at us.
What should have been a quiet awe inspiring moment beneath the moon, turned into the loudest shriek to startle the desert awake as my boy threw up his
arms and yelled, "MOM! DUCK!!!!"
The shooting star soared above our heads, I'm sure millions of miles away from singeing our hair, but not to the eyes and imagination of my son.
As it passed I turned to watch it burn out of sight behind the mountains to the west as Connor hid his eyes behind his hands, sure that the falling
star was going to land right in our lounge chair and ruin our evening.
I started to laugh. He didn't understand my reaction to what was an almost life and death experience in his young mind.
The sounds of the stars and the moon that night were something that I shall hear in my memory for a long time.
P<*)))><
edit: spelling
[Edited on 15-10-2007 by Paulina]
\"Well behaved women rarely make history.\" Laurel Thatcher Ulrich
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Baja Bernie
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Paulina
These are moments that we should all share with each other.
Wonderfully written, right from the heart.
My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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Gnome-ad
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This is a beautiful thread.
The sounds of Baja are so varied and different from the sounds I've been used to. Coming from Oregon, there were wonderful nature sounds there as
well: the creaking of Doug firs, babbling streams and rivers. My neighborhood there was quiet, sounds of children playing occasionally, the sound of
saxophone lessons being given by the neighbor two doors down, birds singing, bees buzzing in the honeysuckle.
Here my day is frequently filled with:
honking of horns – all types from the gas truck to the bicycle horn of the tortilla salesman
barking of dogs – the fearsome four keep guard of the intersection and do not allow other dogs, horses, dune buggies or green (I thought they were
color blind!) SUV’s to pass without an alert (maybe it’s a particular green SUV – have not figured that out yet)
neighbors shouting and laughing when they are home and playing music LOUD – luckily I love the music they play!
the ring of the bell we have on the post outside Amir’s clinic, calling him to minister to the needs of someone in pain or in need of a “tune-up”
the dancehall that is one block away and has parties ‘til the wee hours on many weekends
roosters, cows, goats, horses all adding their occasional voices
the doves – cooing and calming along with wonderful song birds that come to perch in our dead tree – we can’t bear to take it down because of their
presence
church bells and school bells
the surf from two miles away when all else is quiet and the surf is pounding
I tell folks back in the USA our neighborhood is very tranquil, once you get used to the noise. And now I am used to it and it is tranquil, with the
exception of a neighbor around one block away who has at times had deliveries of gravel, stones or large boulders dumped at his house around 1 in the
morning! Sound carries here in mysterious ways – it sounded like it was right outside our window!
Oops - I'm editing because now I notice "natural sounds" - well, guess the sounds I've described are "natural" here in my neighborhood and some did
fall in the "nature" sound category.
[Edited on 10-15-2007 by Gnome-ad]
The only normal people are the ones you don't know very well. - Ancis
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Paulina
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| Quote: | Originally posted by Baja Bernie
These are moments that we should all share with each other.
Wonderfully written, right from the heart. |
Thank you Bernie,
I copied it and sent it to him. Like you said, he's not too big to share a memory.
P<*)))><
\"Well behaved women rarely make history.\" Laurel Thatcher Ulrich
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bajadogs
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I had a hard time trying to sleep last night after 9 days of a painful chest cold. With my body feeling better, my brain was racing, wide awake at
1:30AM. Then I remembered this thread and started wondering why I couldn't contribute. I know many sounds of Baja but couldn't think of one favorite
sound I could give poetic justice. I imagined the silence of Playa Escondida on a no-wind night. I began to hear the natural music I've only heard on
that beach - the slow, gentle surge of water that rolls the broken shell fragments back up the beach. Not big enough to break like a wave, the
trickling water is just strong enough to lift the shells for a dance that lasts no more than half a second. The melody is so delicate you can hear the
tone of every individual shell in each wave, then silence as the water regenerates what's left of the energy in Bahia Concepcion. The timing of the
following waves become predictable and comforting, even knowing this is happening 10 feet away. I think about tomorrow, hoping to be the first to
leave new footsteps on the beach of crushed musical instruments.
My alarm jolted my out of bed this morning and I was 10 minutes late for work. I'll try my new therapy again tonight, earlier.
Thanks Bernie
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amir
Senior Nomad
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Crickets.
When the crickets chirp in the night, I say: "The Moon is singing!"
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Baja Bernie
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bajadog
we must have been in tune because I never really got to sleep last night but I have an advantage on you in that I am, finally, my own boss and didn't
have to be to work until 0730.
During the night my wife ran off and left me with the noise of a few drunken fellows 'remodeling' my home to suit only their selves.....certainly not
me. I suddenly noticed the wife missing, asked around, and was t6ld she had flew the noise and was enroute to otra lado.
Saddened, I wandered down to the beach and lost myself in the sound of the surf constantly beating upon the beach. Bubbling past the mounds of
seaweed in the way in and exposing the noisy and grasping sand craps on the way out.
When they told me that she had tried to run the border I awoke and realized that there were far to many sound of Baja for me to record with out a ton
of help------Still have not heard from the "capers".................Judy? and others you know the most unique sounds of this paradise and yet you fail
to share with your fellow Nomand.............Why!
Amir.......crickets and sand craps most similar if you only listen.
[Edited on 10-18-2007 by Baja Bernie]
My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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