I
lived in Baja California Norte, Mexico, from 1985 to
1997. From my home base in Valle de Guadalupe I was able to travel and see much of
the Baja peninsula. For almost 13 years I farmed, fished, surfed, dove, hiked, rode,
hunted, lived and started a family in Baja California. I was there in pursuit of a
dream. This dream sprouted roots from seeds planted in my mind during surfing trips
into Baja in the late 60s and early 70's. In 1985 an opportunity presented itself
and I dove head first into pursuit of my Baja dream. Although this dream was interrupted
by life it is not forgotten. I am back in So Cal now after having been away 20
years. Orange County is more crowded now, but the weather can't be beat and money
flows like latte. I return to Baja several times a year. Baja is a place to fish,
surf, dive, visit friends and enjoy long stretches of roads, trails and coastlines where
the hand of man is absent. Baja is a place to of peace.
In Baja, there is no water from the north. Thank God for that. The lack of water will always keep development localized around water sources.
Baja
is changing though. Huge hotels are built and the rooms are empty. How do they
do that? Maybe the accountants cook the books, show the hotel sold out every night
as they are washing bills in the laundry room in place of linens. Maybe?? When
I lived in Baja the changes were huge and swift as the economy shifted from
tourism/agriculture to the laundering of money through the establishment of legitimate
business. These businesses are hobbies for the juniors to make papas dirty money clean.
Those of us who competed in the real marketplace, who hoped to make a living if not
a profit, we were overwhelmed by this unfair competition and watched hopelessly as interest
rates soared and we sank.
The
environment is being overrun too. Who can forget when the
Signalman fleet
showed up in Bahia Concepion in the 80's, hundreds upon hundreds of brand new pangas with
brand new hooka rigs. You literally could walk across Santispac bay, side to side,
on top of the pangas they were so numerous. Overlooking the rape of the shellfish
ecosystem, from above off the road, sat the Dodge Ram truck, Sinaloan placas. Who
bought those pangas and compressors and paid the boys? Guess?
It is
different now. Do not think otherwise. It is much like here at home. One must
keep your wits nearby, make good decisions, be aware. When I camp overnight at Refugio I
hope the Navy gunship are around so "they" won't be. I do not
mention this to my girlfriend. She does not need to know that if "they"
are there and their boat breaks down or they need gas, "they" will ask to borrow
ours. She does not know the dark side of Mexico which has reached Baja and I will not
teach her. I wish I did not know. I do though and am obliged to keep a wary eye open
and drink less beer than I desire while sleeping lightly..
Gone
also are the days of pulling off to the side of Hwy 1 and sleeping just anywhere and
making new friends every time one did. Oh, the people one used to meet. The
old-timers and their tales! The road to Cabo was a journey, an adventure to be shared
and embellished. In 1973 I took my first trip to Cabo. We were teenagers then, my brother
and I, in a 1970 aluminum head Chevy Luv. It died shortly thereafter.
One evening in the Sonoran desert south of
Rosarito, we shared a camp with two old timers, a man and wife. Gus told me back in
the early 60's, he and his wife would make an annual sojourn to Cabo. They had an
icemaker he built, propane powered, and it would make just enough ice during the course of
each days movement to make two margaritas. He was proud of that. I was in awe of
such ingenuity and resourcefulness. Ice was scarce then, potable ice even more so.
I could only imagine the pleasure they shared as the chilled fruit of their efforts and
genius blended into sun sets and bliss on the rocks. My brother and I, we
drank Coronas.
These days, when diving or hiking, I worry
about where to leave the truck. It has been broken into, passports lost, stuff
ransacked and missing too. It has only happened a few times in 30 years of traveling
Baja, a few times too many that is. I just try to keep it all in perspective.
In Valle de Guadalupe, I was living there when hijacking the local
buses and robbing the passengers was a growth business and a regular
occurrence.
When my business was vandalized and burglarized, the police from Ensenada were unable to
investigate such a remote location without prepayment of gas and food money. So a
pre-investigation deposit was made. With this money they were able to come out to
Guadalupe and visit the crime scene, write a report and get a free lunch, my courtesy of
course. An old timer Gringo business man whom I met in Ensenada called it pay as you go
civil service. I like it. Pay as you go civil service works for me!
I
still enjoy and defend the pay as you go civil service, the de facto government policy of
Baja. True, my sunglasses are no longer rose lenses. My vision is farsighted
now. In Baja you need that. If you know where to go and look far you will see desert
vistas, fishy reefs, brilliant sunsets and sunrises, unexplored canyons and peaks and
enjoy the company of some of the nicest, most resourceful people on this
planet! I see Baja in my dreams every day, it is far away and oh so close.
When can I go again?