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Osprey
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Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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Trickery in Todos Santos
Trickery in Todos Santos
Carl Rhoads sold his last horse in 87, his last saddle in 94 so while he still thinks of himself as a cowboy, he no longer fits the description.
A Stetson hat, jeans, big belt buckle and Dan Posts on your feet mean nothing in Todos Santos. If you walk into the gloom of Shut Up Franks anytime
after about 11 AM, sit near Carl at the bar, you’ll hear a lot more than you bargained for about Texas, rodeos, rank bulls and ponies, broken bones.
Carl didn’t know when to get out. He also had no place to run to. What he really misjudged was the Whiskey River. He thought he could swim out of it
if he went far enough south.
He didn’t know what I know – that the river runs strong and deep way down Mexico way, has a west fork to the tip of the Baja finger with little
streams that lead to the tiniest little villages up the canyons and at the shore.
If you listened, bought a few beers, he might buy you one. Wouldn’t matter if you were a man or woman, young or old, short or tall but would rest
entirely upon what day of the month the encounter occurred. Garnet Oil and New Highland Oil Co. send checks to Carl’s bank in Brownwood, Texas on or
about the 1st and the 15th of every month. They are very old leases that belonged to his family and they have become Carl’s only source of income.
No telling what the old cowboy saw in TS; maybe he thought it would be a good place to hide in plain sight. After all, the little town is home to a
lot of left over flower children, holistic P-nchers and probers, artsy putterers. If Carl is not furniture here, he is just a rustic accessory like an
antique picture frame or another polished oil lamp so he is interesting to locals and day trippers but just for one quick look. Maybe that’s what
keeps him here – he has avoided all but the most cursory curiosity, inquiry or inspection. To date, nobody, as far as I know, has told Carl he should
eat, see the doctor, they remember him from his rodeo days, to shut the flock up.
Mr. Rhoads is a wanted man in Brown County, Texas. No big deal. Abandoned car. He took the bus and just left the car in the apartment parking lot with
the keys in it. Owed about $800 but it was probably worth more than that. Just left the plates on it. The warrant keeps bouncing back and forth to his
“Last Known Address”. Had four days left on the rent. He could live without the $75 bucks cleaning deposit.
At the bar, where he lives, you could arguably see him as a punctuation mark, a little comma between people whose statement is that they are here
wearing shorts, tank tops and shades and they are now thirsty for the gloom, something cold and wet after a mind-numbing tour of Storyville. They
would all find it charmingly quaint and quirky that Carl, who has lived in Todos Santos for almost two years, has not been on the tour, has seen
little of the myriad ways watercolor can be mixed and applied to a flat surface to make it appear even flatter. The old cowboy is only vaguely aware
of the vaunted power of Todos Santos; how a special convergence of energies gives the place a unique magic.
On a straight beer diet Carl has lost a lot of weight. He is literally wasting away. It seems a perfect tragedy that a few short blocks away, in
almost any direction from where he sits and drinks all day, every day, awaits salvation, healing intervention, loving care without condition. An army
of non-traditional healers waits for tortured souls and hopeless castaways like Carl Lucas Rhoads. I cannot let this go. I think an introduction might
be called for here.
So many choices; meditation, psychocalisthenics, reflexology, acupuncture, Aikido, Tai Chi, The Animal Whisperer, AA, holistic healers, inner peace
workshops, Hatha yoga, Ashtanga yoga, Ayurvedic massage, aroma therapy and many more.
Some of these I can dismiss out of hand. Carl would never admit he has any problems so AA is not an option. His brittle old bones full of pins and
plates might collapse in the very first martial arts session. He may already be too far gone for any cerebral introspection he might find in inner
peace groups.
So I guess that leaves Margaret Cromer. The widow Cromer is a very sharp gal so if I have to sneak up on the introduction I might have to talk to her
first. The old man, George Cromer, left her nothing of value except the little Mexican house, a monthly SS benefit that isn’t much because he was self
employed for most of his adult life. She’s scraping by – calls the little two bedroom place El Nido, The Nest, and has an occasional bed and breakfast
guest. My plan is to convince Carl to quit his nasty digs and rent Margaret’s room. She needs someone to get George’s old blue Chevy truck up and
running and keep it going. I know she needs help with it because she called me to ask about it, see if I could come over to look at it, see what it
needs. Mostly she needs the steady rental income, something to do, someone to do it with.
Carl needs to have some reason to get off his favorite stool at Shut Up Franks. Carl needs to find a better reason to get out of bed every morning.
If you’re wondering what I get out of all this, don’t bother. Jack Fallon doesn’t need a reason to do anything. If this works out, I’ll have helped
two friends; if it doesn’t, I’ll have tried. I’m tailor made for this kind of work – I’m famous for avoiding the truth at all cost. Ask anyone around
these parts.
I’ll start with Margaret; the old “Let’s get the old truck running” ploy. I’ll swing by Ruben’s and pick up an old battery, then tell Margaret I have
a gringo friend who knows all about trucks who will come over and help me get her old truck running, see what it needs to be road ready again. Then
I’ll go get Carl before he walks over to Franks, tell him I don’t know a thing about trucks, ask him to give me a hand with the blue beast. I’ll
spring for new spark plugs, wires, some fresh gas and that will keep Carl busy with me running around getting parts. Carl and Margaret can meet while
he’s still sober, they’ll have the truck as common ground.
When the truck is running, we’ll celebrate at Franks and I’ll tell Carl about the things Margaret needs a hand with including the rental. Then the
next morning I’ll start with Margaret about the rental, the extra income, what a champ my friend Carl is, etc. etc.
The widow Cromer, in her early fifties is the envy of lots of women in this little town – she looks and acts years younger. So I’ll have to play my
cards very close to the vest; Carl isn’t even close to her idea of a significant other while he could easily become hostage to her charms in a way
that could ruin my forced partnership.
Carl was not happy with the start of the campaign. “What the hell? Just a minute. Just a minute. What is it? Who’s there? What the hell is going on?”
“Open up, it’s me, Jack, Jack Fallon, open up. You gonna’ sleep all day?”
The smell of Carl’s dark, rank cave hit me like a punch in the nose. “What the hell is all this stuff in here? Is this all your furniture? Do you need
all this furniture?”
“No, no, the landlord rented to somebody who had their own furniture so he stores his old stuff in here. I just ignore it, crawl around it and over
it. What the hell is going on? What time is it? Why did you get me up? The place on fire or what?”
“We gotta get that old truck running for the lady, remember? Whew, how can you live like this Carl? Animals in caves live better than this. C’mon,
we’ll get some coffee to go at Lillies.”
I had some tools, we stopped and got three gallons of gas and I already had the old, new battery charged up in the back of my truck. So at Margaret’s
place I just watched as Carl put in the new battery, cleaned up the cables, primed the carb and after some minor tinkering, we got it started.
“Margaret, let Carl and I have the truck for a day or two. I’ll fill it up and when I do I’ll put some engine additive in the gas to kinda clean it
out, then Carl and I will change the fuel filters and air filters and we’ll leave it to you to have the oil changed. The car wash guy at El Cochi can
do that.”
Margaret said “Good job. You two boys deserve some of my cool Jamaica. Come on inside and you can wash up, we’ll cool down in there.”
She must not have had guests because the guest room door was open and as we passed I pointed out the lovely, bright, spotlessly inviting room so I
could later chide Carl about his cave. We did cool down at Margaret’s kitchen table under the big ceiling fan, each with our own tall glass of
slightly sweetened tea made from Hibiscus flowers, a Todos Santos favorite.
Carl was impressed, as was I with all the special little things the widow had done with this little Mexican place to make you want to stay, relax,
enjoy. She showed us the rear patio and garden – a jungle of well tended palms, ferns and big leafed greenery. A small herb garden lay in the shade of
a big fire tree and a palm rope hammock called from a niche nearby. I began to wonder if one of the monthly oil checks Carl gets is going to be enough
for the rent.
Back in the kitchen I decided to go off the high board. “Margaret, if you could get the proper rent for the spare room, would you rent it by the
month? How much do you think you could ask for?”
“In Todos Santos, right now? I don’t know Jack, things are very slow now. Maybe more people going north now than there are coming south. What do you
think?”
“Me? I don’t know about real estate. Carl, what do you pay over on Calle Duarte?”
“Four hundred.”
I blurted out. “Four hundred? For that hell-hole? Are you nuts?”
Margaret said “I might be happy to get four hundred. Would depend on the person. Would have to be somebody I could get along with, somebody neat, a
non smoker.”
Just as I was about to end round one with a knockout punch, the phone rang. It was her neighbor lady who needed her to come over and watch the baby
while she went to the hospital to check on her husband who had rolled his car three days before. The baby had the gripe so she didn’t want to take it
with her.
She shook Carl’s hand, a good sign, and as we left she gave me a little kiss on the cheek. It felt hot, soft, personal. I’m not used to that sort of
thing and it was just a little bit scary. She smelled like fresh flowers. Made the tea from flowers. Maybe cut some flowers in her garden this
morning.
My plan got set aside the next day while I did some work at my place. It’s big, almost a hectare and although I have Alberto to help me now and then
it’s still a lot of work. I thought about subdividing, selling some lots but the whole process is expensive and is a big pain --- so it’s either do
that or work hard to keep it all from going back to scrub and puckerbrush. The downside about selling would be that I’ve gotten used to living out
here with no neighbors.
The next day I worked my little tricks to get us all back to the scene of the crime – got Carl and the filters and the tools right back over to El
Nido. It worked so well we found ourselves right back at the kitchen table with another cool glass of the healthy stuff in hand and more skullduggery
to do.
Before I could launch any new attack Margaret said. “Well, Jack, what do you think? Would you be interested in renting my room for $400 a month?
You’re working yourself into an early grave out there in Lonely Acres. You really need that big place to be happy?”
“Me? Me? No, no, you got me all wrong. It’s Carl, it’s Carl who needs a new place. He lives like an animal there. He’s got to get out of there. That’s
all I was thinking.”
Carl said. “Why would I want to move? I don’t mind it there. I like living alone. Been living by myself for half my life and that’s how I like it.”
Margaret again. “Jack, why don’t you sell the whole spread. Let it go to it’s highest and best use without you. I think you could find some ways to
spend the money, maybe do a little traveling, get a new truck, lots of things. If you moved in here I could throw in some home cooked meals to sweeten
the deal. Not much work around here since you fixed the truck – you’d get to watch me keep the garden, cut some flowers.”
Well, I said it was a plan. I never said it was a good plan.
I sold my place for a lot more money than I ever dreamed of. Carl is still living in that rat-hole like some animal, I’m more than a tenant at what
used to be El Nido. Now I’m a real believer in the magic of this little place. There’s an energy here you won’t find anywhere else. I can feel it
coursing through me, renewing me somehow. Just before our siesta when we put the phone in the fridge, close the bedroom window, put on the big ceiling
fan it takes me over. I don’t know if I’d call it a convergence but whatever it is, I love it.
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Skipjack Joe
Elite Nomad
Posts: 8088
Registered: 7-12-2004
Location: Bahia Asuncion
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Good point, osprey: in the end it's the female of the species that chooses.
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shari
Select Nomad
Posts: 13049
Registered: 3-10-2006
Location: bahia asuncion, baja sur
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Mood: there is no reality except the one contained within us "Herman Hesse"
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winner winner chicken dinner...as I have grown fond of saying lately...this is one of my favorite pieces so far...holistic P-nchers and
probers....most excellent amigo...your writing absolutely transports me onto the scene. What a lovely way to start the week with a chuckle and a
smile..and a feeling of gratefulness to live in a backwater town that is generally 50 years behind the "times"...(although there is a tad of artsy
puttering on occasion).
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watizname
Senior Nomad
Posts: 792
Registered: 8-7-2009
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Good story. Enjoyable reading. Thanks.
I yam what I yam and that\'s all what I yam.
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jbcoug
Senior Nomad
Posts: 709
Registered: 9-24-2006
Location: Vancouver, WA
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Mood: Needing Baja!
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Excellent! One of my new favorites.
John
\"The average dog is a nicer person than the average person.\" Andy Rooney
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Udo
Elite Nomad
Posts: 6364
Registered: 4-26-2008
Location: Black Hills, SD/Ensenada/San Felipe
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I was just in Todos Santos last week, and George's piece is an absolute gem.
The names probably were changed to protect the real identities, but everything is as described.
The town IS an entire throwback to the sixties and seventies, right down to the HOTEL CALIFORNIA.
There isn't that much to the downtown area, but neither is downtown Mulege.
However, Todos Santos is not a place that one would soon forget. It is a place that sticks with you. Remember...it is only about a 40 minute drive
north of Cabo.
GREAT PIECE, George!
Udo
Youth is wasted on the young!
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wessongroup
Platinum Nomad
Posts: 21152
Registered: 8-9-2009
Location: Mission Viejo
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Mood: Suicide Hot line ... please hold
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Thanks for sharing ... doesn't get much better than that ...
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DanO
Super Nomad
Posts: 1923
Registered: 8-26-2003
Location: Not far from the Pacific
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Another beautiful piece, George. Thanks.
\"Without deviation from the norm, progress is not possible.\" -- Frank Zappa
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tiotomasbcs
Super Nomad
Posts: 1837
Registered: 7-30-2007
Location: El Pescadero
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Think I'll shuffle on down to Franks for a cold Pacifico right now! It sounds like Osprey has been doing his background study and research on Todos
Santos. Nice story amigo. By the way, Ballena Bob has occupied a front porch chair for many years now! Really. Bob is a Viet Nam Vet who rolled
into town....   Tio
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Udo
Elite Nomad
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My wife, Jana, read your piece, George, and she loved it!
She now wants to spend her birthday in TS. She really fell in love with the HOTEL CALIFORNIA, and it is only about an hour north of Cabo.
Would you, or anyone else, know if there is a paved road that goes from Miraflores to El Pescadero on the Pacific coast?
Udo
Youth is wasted on the young!
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Osprey
Ultra Nomad
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Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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Not from Miraflores. It's called the Los Naranjas rd, not always open but a fun ride. Goes from Highway one to just south of Todos Santos -- people
take it for the great view of the Pacific from the summit.
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Udo
Elite Nomad
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I'll look it up from Google Earth. My Baja Almanac does not show anything called Los Naranjos.
Thanks, George!
Udo
Youth is wasted on the young!
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monoloco
Elite Nomad
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Bravo! Very nicely done.
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Udo
Elite Nomad
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I think I'm going to need help on googleearth by the pro, DK. I've got the think installed on my Mac, but the only Naranjo road it shows is the one in
La Paz.
Udo
Youth is wasted on the young!
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monoloco
Elite Nomad
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Udo, Go on Google earth and look for a long straight road that heads west from north of San Jose Viejo, that turns into the Naranjos road, it ties
into the rancho roads between Pescadero and Todos Santos and most directly hits the highway just south of Rancho Nuevo. I wouldn't recommend it in
anything but a high clearance vehicle.
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Udo
Elite Nomad
Posts: 6364
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Location: Black Hills, SD/Ensenada/San Felipe
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Mil gracias, monoloco!
I found the road.
Yes, it is a shortcut, but not worth taking in a rental car. Perhaps next time we take the FJ Cruiser.
Thanks for the advise!
Udo
Youth is wasted on the young!
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captkw
Ultra Nomad
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Mood: new dog/missing the old 1
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naja rd
| Quote: | Originally posted by monoloco
Udo, Go on Google earth and look for a long straight road that heads west from north of San Jose Viejo, that turns into the Naranjos road, it ties
into the rancho roads between Pescadero and Todos Santos and most directly hits the highway just south of Rancho Nuevo. I wouldn't recommend it in
anything but a high clearance vehicle. |
.............. I havnt took it in say 8 or 10 years and it was slow
going in a two wheel drive VOLVO (Limited slip) but a sorta cool drive !! K & T 
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Osprey
Ultra Nomad
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Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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One thoughtful Nomad thought I should have prefaced this long piece - he lost interest and didn't finish the story. At just under 700 readings some of
you may have just read the first few sentences and gave it up. I hope not because I couldn't make this particular story better by shortening it.
I'm breaking the rules and pushing the envelope to run 5 pages of fiction and I thank Doug and you readers for the accommodation.
I wrote this piece 2 years ago, lost it in my various computer files and found it the other day by accident. All my backups and remedies didn't help
because I changed the title.
Anyway, thanks Doug, thanks to those who read the whole thing. I'll try to keep em shorter when I can.
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durrelllrobert
Elite Nomad
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Were you a writer in your previous life too?
Bob Durrell
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Osprey
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3694
Registered: 5-23-2004
Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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No. I sold business insurance in Las Vegas. I began the writing hobby about 5 or 6 years ago and it turned out to be the best hobby for me. Looooove
the research.
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