An open letter to family and friends
From Gordon and Raven
Regarding travels in Mexico

Our trip to Mexico got off to a later start than we hoped for, nearly an entire month later. It was noon on Sunday, February 25th when we finally left the chilly, snowy, miserable Central Oregon winter. That first night we decided to try to find a camping spot before it got dark and ended up camping near the unbelievable bulk and awesome presence of Mount Shasta, at the entrance to a veteran's memorial on Highway 97. This memorial was dominated by very interesting metal sculptures (photos).

Up early the next morning (Monday), and after a magnificent sunrise behind Shasta, we made progress along I-5 (the major California freeway) to arrive in Rio Vista a little after noon where we picked up our Mexican fishing licenses, boat permit, and vehicle insurance from Vagabundos, a Baja travel club. From there we traveled on to an RV campground in an almond grove in central California just off I-5 to spend the night. The fragrance of the blooming almond trees was so strong and sweet that my initial reaction was to think I would get a headache from it but it was also so gentle, that it continued as a delicious aroma during our brief stay. Tuesday morning we headed for Bakersfield so that we could have the new truck's oil changed (3,000 miles!) before crossing the border into Mexico. On the way to Bakersfield we stopped at a nice grocery store in the small town of Wasco that had a good selection of fresh produce and excellent prices compared to Central Oregon, so we stocked up. After the oil change at the Toyota dealer we headed south and made it to a seaside campground (South Carlsbad) in southern California, arriving a little after sunset and slept soundly to the sound of crashing surf.

Another early rising on Wednesday and we headed for the border. Crossing at Tijuana was relatively uneventful although a bit hectic and we HAD to laugh after leaving when one of the border officials said, "push the button" as we were exiting the customs area. We were confused, he pointed at a button on a post RIGHT next to him. "Why doesn't HE push the button?" we thought. He points at the button again and says in a heavy Spanish accent, "Push the button." So Gordon got out, walked over to the post right next to the guy, pushed the button, hopped back in the truck, a light turned green and we were officially in Mexico! We took the toll roads from Tijuana to Ensenada (three toll booths at $4.50 US each for our truck with trailer) rapidly learning Spanish from the road signs ("QUICK, what does THAT mean?!") and from Ensenada on we were on the infamous "Mex 1", a non-toll road.

For our first stop in Mexico we headed for a spot that was suggested to us by both Bob Griffin and Steve and Nancy Sheldon. We set our sights on an RV park/motel and Restaurant named "Celito Lindo" near the town of San Quintin a couple of hours south of Ensenada. We arrived early enough to get the trailer parked and leveled just in time to rush to the beach and enjoy our first Mexican sunset (photos). Raven flatly refused to spend another day traveling after 4 days of freeways so we paid for two nights so that we could spend a day NOT driving. We had dinner that night in the restaurant at the RV park and Raven had the crab dinner that was recommended by both Bob and the Sheldon's and was fanTASTic and Gordon ordered the chicken dish (good but not as wonderful as the crab).

The next day we spent some time on the beach trying to get surfperch by casting into the waves. We were completely unsuccessful getting perch, the beach however was virtually deserted and very pleasant, though a tad cool. There was an abundance of shells and many sand dollars as Bob G. had said there would be (photos).

On Friday, after our day of rest, we headed for Guerrero Negro, our next overnight stop. On the outskirts of town we came to an agricultural checkpoint, which was also the border between Baja Norte (North) and Baja Sur (South). There they took half of the wonderful California produce we had left. One of the officials apologized to Raven as she stuck out her lower lip while watching them walk away with the perfect Anjou pears. That night we spent the night at a RV park behind a hotel at the edge of town amidst the first of the bougainvillea. Saturday morning we headed for the east side of the Baja peninsula, a spot on the map south of Santa Rosalia called Punta Chivato.

The road to Punta Chivato is quite the experience. Once off Mex 1 there are 13 miles of dirt/sand road to the campground. The road is almost entirely severe washboard, which makes for a 5 to 10 mph drive, at least in a rig like ours. But once finally IN we camped about 50 feet from the edge of the sea on the sand. Punta Chivato was a very nice campground with lots of folks fishing from small boats, which were anchored just offshore when not out fishing. We tried fishing from the rocks and we both caught fish, but not many. We spent three nights at Punta Chivato (from Saturday March 3rd through Monday March 6th). There were many rock points to fish from, some hiking opportunities and several sandy bays. There were also some very upscale homes in the area, a landing strip, a restaurant/bar, which we never saw, a good little market and a hotel. Raven would have spent about a month there but Gordon insisted in moving on.

We were on the road to our next campsite by mid morning on Tuesday, March 6th. Actually it took us about two hours to just get to the road (Mex 1) because the level of "washboardiness" of the road in had increased during our stay. On the way out we passed by a desert "golf course" (photos) associated with the local tourist resort. We had passed the "golf course" on the way in, but were so focused on getting to the beach that we hadn't really noticed.

Our next destination was a campsite on Bahia Concepcion (Conception Bay) called El Requeson (photos). The camp is a very short distance off Mex 1, located on a sand spit that leads to Isla El Requeson. Not many amenities there but most of the sites do have palapas (grass huts) for lounging etc. and trash receptacles (55 gallon drums). The "rent" was cheap enough, 40 pesos a day (slightly over 4 dollars) and the neighbors (Canadians and Americans) were quiet at night and pleasant during the day. On the afternoon of our first day at El Requeson we noticed a number of people wading out on the flats at low tide (it was knee deep for about a hundred yards out when the tide was low). We eventually figured out that they were claming. The next day we took the Zodiac out of the back of the truck, inflated it, attached the outboard motor and took a spin around the island in front of camp. The boat worked fine, but it didn't help our luck in the fishing department. The second day using the boat we made the mistake of going out when there were whitecaps on the water. The person in front (Raven) got drenched and threatened to kill the captain of the craft (Gordon) if he didn't slow to about 1 mile per hour, the maximum speed before waves began to break over the bow. Raven got quite wet; Gordon was delighted that the self-bailing feature of the boat worked so well.

During our second full day at El Requison Raven decided to try some claming, quite successfully. Our next door neighbors, Doug and Nancy, a couple from British Columbia, cooked up clams that Doug and Raven had collected in front of camp during low tide and had us over to their palapa for clam "appetizers" that evening. Yummmmmm! (photos).

We left El Requison after a three-day stay and headed for the town of Loreto. One of our guidebooks listed a place to stay their that had full hookups (sewer, water, and electricity) and had a Laundromat and hot showers, both of which we needed badly. Loreto is a very nice town, and the RV Park is quiet, clean, and the neighbors are friendly. We looked up Bob G.'s friend, Alfredo, a Loreto fishing guide, and received an invitation to go out on his boat for the cost of the gas. At the time this is being written we have yet to take him up on the offer. We toured the town of Loreto for a couple of days, enjoyed its quiet hospitality, restaurants, and tourist shops.

This entry is being prepared on Monday morning, March12. We will be leaving town sometime today (after going to the Internet café to post this) and are headed a little farther south, to another warm sandy beach and the cool clear water of the Sea of Cortez.

Hasta la vista
Gordon and Raven

Hola from Mexico
Installment number 2
An open letter from Gordon and Raven
To friends and family
Regarding travels in Mexico

After leaving the town of Loreto (which Gordon liked very much and Raven, the desert camper, tolerated) we headed for another small spot on the map (even smaller than Punta Chivato) called Playa Ligui. Not very far south of Loreto, the road into the Playa (beach) is less rough but more poorly marked than the road into Punta Chivato, passing though the yard of a rural school on a dirt road that branched into numerous unsigned forks. We guessed wrong the first time and ended up at the village fishing camp with numerous Mexican fishermen's pangas (boats) on the beach. We backtracked, found the correct fork and ended up at the beach camp (no facilities except for outhouses and trashcans, but no cost, free camping) (photos). What a wonderful beach. This is another location that Raven would have gladly spent a month at. We spent three days. Raven did some fishing, Gordon did less. The fishing was less than wonderful but Raven still caught fish. However, we don't really have a sufficient sample to make a valid conclusion, a return trip is in order. After a couple of days on the beach (two nights camping) we decided to head for what we thought might be better fishing - Mag Bay (Magdelana Bay) which is on the Pacific side of the Baja peninsula about ¾ of the way to the southern tip. The northernmost portion of Mag bay is a long (about 65 miles), thin (1 to 4 miles wide) maze of mangrove-lined lagoons and channels, a perfect place for the Zodiac. We picked the northernmost access point as a camping destination. The small town of La Poza Grande is about an hour north of Ciudad Insurgentes. From La Poza it is a relatively short (but slow) drive on sand/dirt roads to the northern end of Mag Bay (photos). There was one spot where a small fleet of Mexican commercial fishermen were camped with numerous pangas on the beach. There were also several other spots where tourists could camp. We saw only one other gringo group consisting of three vehicles. We soon found what we thought would be a great camping spot, alone, beautiful, and with a place to launch the Zodiac. We set up camp and then the tide went out(photos). It turned out that at anything but high tide we had to slog through about 30 yards of mudflats to launch the boat. Oh well.

The next day we struggled through the mud and got the boat in water deep enough to float it, attach the motor, load our fishing gear, and head out in search of fish. The first place we stopped was a flat that was about two feet deep with a bottom firm enough for wading. We tried unsuccessfully casting flys over a drop-off and over weed beds. Gordon got in the boat as Raven continued "casting practice" on the flats and motored slowly along the deeper channel trolling a fly. We know, we know, it's not really salt-water fly fishing if you are not constantly risking getting a 4/0 hook planted in the back of your neck, but within 5 minutes Gordon hooked three fish and landed two. Nothing very big but things were looking better. Gordon went back to get Raven and together we trolled flies in various locations heading in a generally southerly direction. Navigating at times was tricky, numerous nets (gill nets we assume judging from the debris on the ground near camp) had been set by the panga fishermen. There were also many shallow areas where we couldn't run the motor. Despite these minor difficulties we caught quite a few fish but nothing very big. They were all "spotted bay bass" (photo) according to the reference books that we have with us. By late afternoon we had reached a spot that we felt must be pretty close to the Boca de Animas, an opening to the Pacific Ocean. We didn't have enough daylight left on this day to continue exploring any farther, but we knew that the next day we would be heading straight for the Boca.

Launching the boat the next day wasn't any easier than the first day. After much grunting and groaning and cursing at our bad choice of launch sites we were finally motoring toward the Boca. We had read that south of this opening to the Pacific there was better fishing. After going southwest for a couple of miles from camp we came to a line of sand dunes where the dull roar that had been a constant accompaniment to camp life became more distinctly the sound of surf. As we continued on, the mangroves opened up into a bay. A low sand island to our left was covered with hundreds of birds of various species. The dunes to the right grew lower and lower until finally they were replaced by the sight of breaking waves in the distance. We crossed the portion of the bay inside the boca keeping our distance from the breaking waves. Gentle swells from the Pacific rolled across our path for a short time but soon we were back on smooth water and heading back into mangroves. No nets or pangas to avoid, we saw no sign of man. The bay split into numerous channels leading into the mangroves, we chose what appeared to be the main channel. Casting flies along the edge of the mangroves we began to catch fish, lots of fish. We had numerous double hookups. Almost all the fish were spotted bay bass, none of them were particularly big but in general they did seem a little bigger than the fish that we had caught the previous day closer to camp. It was the kind of day where if you went two minutes without a bite you begin to wonder if your fly was fouled. Raven hooked something that fought differently than the bass we had been catching. When she got it to the surface we discovered that she had hooked a small halibut. After letting it go it occurred to us that we might want to eat one and resolved to keep the next (these things are slow to enter the consciousness of catch and release trout fishermen).

Continuing into the mangroves going south was like some kind of Disneyland ride. Rounding a bend in a mangrove channel would invariably reveal half a dozen smaller channels. After catching what felt like about a billion bass we decided to head back to our camp. Raven thought it would be a good idea to follow the dunes back to the boca so we wound our way westward through the mangroves, headed for the line of dunes that separate Mag Bay from the Pacific. At a couple of places we had to veer farther south when we wanted to be going north, to get around sand bars or shallow flats. Finally we came to the line of dunes that separates Mag Bay from the Pacific. At the dunes we turned north, back toward our camp and followed a channel that got narrower and narrower, shallower and shallower. We had to get out to pull the boat over a shallow flat(photos). Numerous stingrays scurried across the shallow bottom as our boat passed near. The water in the channel we were following then turned from clear to suspiciously muddy. As we rounded a corner we came to a dead end. We followed a fork to the right and also came to a dead end. The water was too shallow to run the motor and because of the muddy bottom in this section we didn't want to get out to pull the boat, so we rowed back the way we came in until we could run the motor again. At that point we had about 2 or 3 hours until sunset and the tide was just beginning to go out. Gordon had marked the location of the camp on a GPS unit, so we knew how far we were from camp (straight line distance - a little over 6 miles) and what direction to go if you were a bird, or on open water. We knew that we could retrace our route in through the mangroves but that wasn't very appealing since we had taken a very long and winding path to get to where we were. Playing a hunch we motored down a slightly more open side channel. This led to a very open deep channel that we assumed must be the main channel back to the boca. It wasn't long before were in sight of the low dunes and the waves from the Pacific Ocean breaking across the boca. We each breathed a little sigh of relief and decided that there was still a little time left to catch "just one more" without risking getting caught out on the water after dark. Gordon caught a small halibut that we did NOT release and we both caught a few more bass before reeling in our lines and heading back to camp.

The next day Raven did some hiking and found a better camping location. No mudflats, easy boat launch, closer to the boca, and decent fishing right off the beach in front of the campsite. We didn't have time to move the trailer (we were planning to head south the next day) but we did spend a few hours fishing off the beach and this time kept a couple of bay bass for dinner that night. They were very good eating.

Nothing else to report at this moment. As this is being written (March 21, 2001) we are in La Paz staying at a lovely RV park on the beach (photos). Full hookups allow us to take long showers and spend some time on our computers writing email. Soon after going to the local cyber café to post this web page we will be headed for another beach camp. We have abandoned any plans of heading to mainland Mexico. The late start we got just didn't leave enough time. We will be spending the next 4 or 5 weeks in Baja, returning to Oregon at the end of April.

Too many beaches, too little time
Gordon and Raven

Hola from Mexico
Installment number 3
An open letter from Gordon and Raven
To friends and family
Regarding travels in Mexico

The day before leaving La Paz we went on a short drive to take a look at Tecolote, a beach about a half hour out of La Paz. We had heard from numerous other campers during our travels that it was a nice beach and offered free camping. We thought that a day or two there might be fun but the afternoon that we drove to Tecolote happened to be the birthday of revered past-Mexican president Benito Juarez and a national holiday. We didn't think much of it at first, but as we got nearer to the beach and began to notice numerous carloads of families with picnic supplies, we then remembered what people had been telling us, "Everyone in Mexico heads for the beach on holidays." We arrived at the beach to find a large very crowd. Not only were Mexican families enjoying a day at the beach but many non-Mexican (American, Canadian, etc.) folk were there also. The nonnative contingent seemed to be dug in for the duration. There were several palapa-style restaurants on the beach and in general, a party atmosphere about the place. But somehow it felt and looked like the party had been going on for about 29 years. I think they were still celebrating the opening of the trans-peninsular highway in 1972.

We decided that Tecolote was not quite the kind of beach camping experience that we were looking for so the next day we left La Paz and headed for the "East Cape", the eastern corner of the southern tip of the Baja peninsula. At the small town of La Ribera we took a right and headed south on what was at first a nice paved road but which turned to washboarded dirt in about 10 miles. We were headed for a campsite at or near Cabo Pulmo. Not too far down the dirt road we came to a sign that said "Parque Nacional Cabo Pulmo". This was sooner than we had expected. We kept our eyes peeled for campsites. A slow mile or three of washboard and we came to a small sign at the side of the road, "Arena y Mar" (translation: "sand and sea"), Steve Sheldon's place which he recently sold. For some reason we had the impression that Steve's old place was past one of our intended camping spots. We had seen no obvious places to camp so we kept driving (at about 4 mph). Another couple of slow miles passed and still we could find no place to camp. The sun was getting pretty low in the sky and the warnings of every book we had read and everyone we had talked to about Baja were on our minds, "Do NOT drive in Mexico at night!" We turned around while we still had enough daylight and headed back to La Ribera and an RV park we had read about in one of our guide books. What the guidebook had said about this RV park being laid back was very true. When we came into the place the owner wasn't around but one of the tenants said, "Just park anywhere you like, Julio will find you." We also asked about the "laundromat" that we had seen at the entrance (one washing machine). "Oh, you just put a buck twenty five in the coffee can and do your wash, but you have to run an extra hose into the top of the machine. It fills kinda slow otherwise." The tenant we were talking to happened to be a fellow Oregonian and as we talked we discovered that they regularly spend the winters here. They gave us a ride down to the beach (about a quarter mile away, and showed us where we could camp if we didn't need hookups. As we were riding out to the beach we asked about camping in the area around Cabo Pulmo. They said that you couldn't miss the camping area or the town, we had probably turned around about a mile too soon.

Early the next day we tried again for Cabo Pulmo. This time we didn't let the signs fool us into thinking we had arrived. It was rather lovely as fog from the ocean spilled over the coastal hills as we drove through (photo). We kept driving, past the Cabo Pulmo sign, past Steve's old place, farther south along the eastern tip of the peninsula. We finally came to what was unmistakably a campground. As we crested a hill and looked down to the ocean there were numerous campers spread out over a large beach (photo). Small waves broke quite a distance offshore. The bay at Cabo Pulmo contains the largest coral reef on the west coast and is a popular destination for scuba divers and snorkelers. The reef is a protected area (no fishing allowed in the bay) so we decided to camp one bay farther south. After we passed the camping beach we came to the "town" of Cabo Pulmo. The first thing you see coming into town is a round, thatched roof bar. We knew it was a bar because the surf board leaning against it was hand lettered with "Pedro's Bar - Cabo Pulmo" or something like that. There were also at least two restaurants in town and two or three dive shops. The houses were mostly thatched roof affairs but many had solar panels and satellite TV dishes on those thatched roofs.

The road wound up into the hills as it left Cabo Pulmo and then descended to the bay at Los Frailes. Steve Sheldon had told us of a place to camp there under a big tree. We found the campsite, we found the tree, we parked the trailer (photo). There were numerous abandoned shacks on the beach near our camp. This was obviously a fish camp but the pangas and fishermen were all gone. Only one boat was present and it was upside down in the sand near our tree and had a hole in its bottom.

If you were to look for Los Frailes on a map the easiest way to locate it is to find where the tropic of cancer crosses the eastern coast of Baja and then go 10 miles farther south. The beach was nearly deserted when we arrived. There were a few campers in a grove of trees not far from us, some vacation homes on the hillside and the beach south of us, but most appeared to be vacant. A cluster of nice cabanas that were obviously rental vacation retreats were on the beach about a quarter mile south of us. We saw maybe one in use while we were there. Small waves broke on a beautiful white sand beach. A point of rocks was north of our camp. Just about every day at least one boat came in to fish off that point.

Some time a few days after we arrived at Los Frailes pangas pulled into the camp down the beach. Not a big fleet, perhaps four or five boats. The first thing they did after getting their boats in the water was to catch bait. Two fishermen were in each boat. As the helmsman manuveured the boat along the shoreline just outside the small breakers, a fisherman in the bow of the boat would throw a net toward the shore to catch baitfish (photo). Once they had bait they went out fishing. When they came back in the evening the helmsman would pull in close to shore so that the guy up front could jump out onto the beach. The man on the beach would move large rocks out of the way as the helmsman took the boat out about 50 to 100 feet. With the boat pointed directly at the beach the helmsman gunned the motor. The bow of the boat lifted out of the water as the boat accelerated toward dry land. At the instant that the bow of the panga hit the beach the helmsman killed the motor and lifted the prop out of the water. His timing had to be good because his craft was making an instant transition from a floating object to a sliding object. The momentum carried the boat well up onto dry land. They then unloaded red snapper. A panel truck came several times while were camped there to bring in ice and to take fish to market.

We fished from the beach while at Los Frailes, sometimes during the day but particularly during the evening when we would witness explosions of baitfish jumping up out of the water near the surf break. We had been told that this is a sign that a big fish is feeding underneath the surface. One problem with casting to these explosions of baitfish is that the large fish causing the explosions seemed to be moving rather fast. You would see an explosion of bait fish directly in front of you and only about 30 feet out, you strip in fly line to make a cast and begin to pick it up off the water, another explosion 15 feet to the right, you make the backcast throwing it slightly to the left behind you figuring to just shoot line with no false casts at the disturbance that is now 30 feet out and 15 feet to the right, just as you shoot line on the forward cast a third explosion of bait fish occurs an additional 20 feet down the shore to the right. Very difficult.

We had heard that fishing in the early morning was the best of all so on our third morning there Raven got up before sunrise to check it out. She didn't catch anything on that first day of early morning fishing but saw some things that made her sure that she wanted to try again. The next morning Raven was on the beach with rod in hand while it was still dark out. Gordon got up slightly later and was more interested in taking some early morning photos and so went to the beach not with a fly rod but rather with a camera. He arrived on the beach to find Raven removing the fly from the mouth of a fish that she had just landed. She lifted it out of the water for a photo (photo). "You won't believe it!" Raven said. "There's a feeding frenzy going on out there!. She released the fish and began describing what she had been seeing. She didn't get very far though before we heard a strange roar, the sound of hundreds of bait fish fleeing for their lives. Down the beach about 100 feet, the water was being churned to a froth. This was not like the sudden here and there explosions of small pods of bait fish, this was large and continuous, had a very noticeable sound, and was moving closer, steadily.

Varying is size from about 10 feet in diameter to about 50 feet, a patch of what looked like choppy whitewater moved slowly and relentlessly along the shore (photo). The fleeing bait fish were obvious, they lept out of the water and many landed on the moist sand of the beach as if they thought their chances of survival were better on land rather than in the ocean and they probably were. Looking closer at the "whitewater" the backs of bigger fish were visable rolling across the surface. As the frenzy approached Raven made a cast and in an instant her rod was bent with the weight of a large fish (photo). By the time Raven had the fish landed (it took a while) the sun was well above the horizon and the morning feeding frenzy was over (photo). Gordon decided to bring his fly rod the beach early the next morning.

The next morning there was fish activity along the shoreline but it was different than the previous morning. Gordon had three fish on but lost two of them almost immediately losing two flies in the process. The third fish was landed only because it was foul hooked and turned out to be a sierra and had very sharp teeth.

We had plans to fish the next morning, this time with wire leaders, but our plans had to be changed. We had been using the zodiac for some fishing and sight seeing. We had anchored the boat offshore in the evenings, but this was kind of a nuisance. Gordon would swim out the boat in the morning and climb in. He brought the boat into shore so that Raven, standing in the breaking surf, could hand him the fishing gear. Then she hopped in and we were ready to go. After we were done for the day we had to reverse the process. The surf was not particularly bad but it was enough so that a couple of desert rats loading and unloading the boat was often a comedy of errors.

So one day we had the idea to mimic the panga guys in a way and bring the boat up onshore for the evening. We couldn't just run the inflatable up on the beach the way the panga guys did with their boats so we landed and drug the boat as best we could up what we thought was far enough. The problem is we didn't quite get the boat far enough up on the beach. The high tide that night was higher than it had been on previous nights or the waves must have been bigger or both, and the boat got flipped and the motor was immersed in saltwater and sand for several hours. In hindsight it was a very stupid mistake, made from lack of experience. We packed up our stuff as quickly as possible so that we could take the motor into a mechanic to see if it was salvageable before rigor mortis set in. We had been camped at Los Frailes for about a week and needed to come in soon, regardless, to fill the water tank and dump the holding tanks. Getting the motor off the beach and back in the truck was real grunt work. The motor was full of sand with the cover stuck, and felt as if it weighed twice its original weight.

We headed for the closest town where we thought we might be able to find a mechanic, Los Barriles. We parked at Martin Verdugo's RV park and beach resort. There was nobody in the office when we arrived so we parked the rig in a vacant space and got settled in. After checking again at the office (still nobody there) we looked for and found some friends of the Sheldon's ("Eric and Anita") who are regulars at Verdugo's. We asked around about mechanics that might be able to work on the motor and got a few leads.

Returning to the RV park office for the third time to try to check in, Gordon finally found it open. Martin Verdugo was talking to an American that wanted to get his boat launched. Apparently launching boats over the sandy beach is a service that is provided by Verdugo's and there is a guy with a vehicle of some sort that does the job.

"I think he has several other boats to launch tomorrow, but he should be able to get to yours." Martin said in very good English.

"I want to make sure I get mine launched, maybe I could just park in the middle of the launch area and that way he would have to launch my boat first," the American said.

"Oh, I don't think that would be a very good idea," Martin said. "I don't know how good his brakes are, he could do serious damage to your boat if he can't stop in time when he pulls in tomorrow. I think you should just wait till he launches the other boats."

The American seemed satisfied with the answer and left. Gordon said that he was there to pay for a night of camping. Martin handed him a form, he filled in his name and address. Gordon handed the form back "I don't know the space number" he said. Martin filled it in. "How do you know where I'm parked?" Gordon asked. "Oh, I know," Martin said. A slight smile crept across his face. Then Gordon told the story of what happened to the motor and asked of there was a good mechanic in town. Martin said, "You need to get someone working on it immediately." He had a very serious expression on his face. Without a moment of hesitation he got up from his desk and walked over to a bulletin board and ran his finger down to a name and phone number. He picked up the phone and dialed the number, but it was busy. Martin described how to find "Ernesto". "He's a good mechanic," Martin said. "The sooner you get him working on the motor the better your chances of saving it". Gordon said thanks and left.

Gordon and Raven went searching for Ernesto. "Behind the place where they change oil", Martin had said. We found the oil change place out on the highway. We were then directed to a small house about 50 yards away. The house had a number of outboards clamped to a railing. Ernesto was out on the front porch when we drove up. We tried to explain the problem as best we could. Ernesto didn't speak much English and we speak even less Spanish but we got the point across. Ernesto immediately went to work trying to get the cover off the motor. He got a garden hose in order to try to flush it out, but when he turned on the tap nothing happened. He looked only slightly frustrated as he shrugged and said "no water today". He said something to his wife and she brought a five gallon bucket of water. Ernesto dipped into the bucket with a quart container and began pouring water into the motor. A little sand came out but not enough to get the cover unstuck. Ernesto removed a cowling around the bottom of the motor and poured in more water, more sand came out but the cover was still stuck. He removed the lower unit and more sand came out. He poured in more water and tipped the motor at various angles, more sand came out but the cover was still stuck. He removed the shift lever and poured water in that opening, more sand came out. His wife brought another five gallons of water and Ernesto kept pouring. Ernesto stopped for a minute and listened. He smiled slightly and turned to Gordon and said, "Is moving." "What?" asked Gordon. Ernesto pointed at the motor then at his ear. "You listen, is moving." The sound of the sand beginning to shift inside the engine casing could be heard. Another five-gallon bucket of water poured a quart at a time through the motor now began to bring out a massive amount of sand. It began to form a rather large pile on Ernesto's front porch. "Mucho arena!" Ernesto said softly, "Mucho arena." Another five gallons brought out even more sand and finally the cover came off. There was still more sand left inside. The motor had been packed full with a good portion of the Los Frailes beach, no wonder it had been so heavy.

Ernesto managed to communicate to us that he would clean out the rest of the motor now but it would be a couple of days before he could do much else. He said that it may not be worth repairing. We told him to just do what he could. We agreed on a price and told him that we were at Verdugo's and he said he would be in touch with us in 3 days.

Three days later as we were preparing to go out for breakfast at the "Blue Tarp" taco stand (that's what we called it anyway) we heard a knock at the door. It was Ernesto, he said that the ignition wasn't working. He had called the Mercury dealer in La Paz to see about getting parts but the motor was too old (25 years) and parts weren't available. He was apologetic about not being able to fix the motor. Nice man. We thanked him profusely and he asked for half the amount we had previously agreed upon for his labors, since he could not fix it. And we said goodbye to Ernesto.

That pretty much ended our boating adventures for the rest of our trip except for ongoing searches for a used motor in the next 5 towns we visited, but with no luck. We changed our plans accordingly, staying at locations where we could walk or drive to fishing off beaches, rather than where we would need a boat like we would have at Magdelene Bay. And if things go REALLY well we will still be able to get the right parts when we get home, and we will only be out the $50 to Ernesto, which felt like it was going to a good cause.

So onward we go, out of Los Barriles onto Los Cabos, just to see what the place is all about. No free beaches there, so we hit Vagabundos RV Park about a mile north of Cabo San Lucas. Things really went downhill from there. Still hurting from the loss of the motor, our first excursion into "Cabo" to check out downtown, ended up with us (the truck that is) getting rear ended by a school bus. A low speed wreck (no human injuries) but Gordon's brand new truck was now dented and the rear bumper twisted. But that was just the beginning of the adventure. We ended up spending TWO days trying to get everything legally straightened out. Things are different in Baja. We couldn't get hold of our insurance agent the first day, we assumed since it was a Sunday, the bus owner offered us $350 to settle after 4 hours in the local police station (the police were very nice but spoke very little English). Raven said, "NO WAY, don't do ANYthing until you get hold of the insurance agent." On Monday we did but it was all very strange and VERY stressful. The insurance agent, "Rosario" was a very nice man but ended up basically acting as an interpreter and we did settle for cash from the man to blame. Very odd. Very weird 24-hours which felt more like three days in lock-up, especially after another 5 hours at the police station. End of story. We got money. We got OUT (of Cabo)!

Next we headed to Todos Santos, which we had been looking forward to the entire trip. It is a well-known artist's community in Baja, and a lovely small, quiet Mexican town with many nice shops, galleries and restaurants. We spent 2 days at an RV Park right on the Pacific ocean, waves pounding and crashing 24 hours a day, with gorgeous vistas of turquoise water and white froth right from out trailer window.

There's more to tell but we are on our way to our next spot. More later.

Adios for now from somewhere in Mexico (photo)

Gordon and Raven

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