PUBLISHED THE WEEK OF SEPT. 25 WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS

LIFE AND DEATH IN THE PUEBLO

Sun shimmered off the hot asphalt road and a never-ending coat of Baja dust gave the impression that everything had a fuzzy velour on it. Not many trees out here. More like overgrown bushes that rose maybe a mans-height taller than the concrete block homes in the little pueblito. They were enough to provide some shade and some definition and shape to the yards of the inhabitants who did their best in what most would call an impoverished environment.

But, if you never had it, you don’t know what your missing. Occasionally someone long ago had been able to paint a home here and there with a splash of color. Windows were often sans glass but colorful sun-bleached sheets fluttered in the apertures and children’s toys missing a wheel here and there and the smell of something always cooking were tell-tale signs of Mexican family life. Somewhere a radio was always playing the unmistakable rancho music with it’s polka-accordian beat and the bright fuchsia of bougainvillea exploded with sparks of color against otherwise drab backgrounds.

Normally, it was a vibrant little village of fishermen and farmers, housemoms and laborers. Children, dogs and chickens did what children, dog and chicken do. Any visitor could count on a “Que onda?” (What’s up?) greeting that often ended in a social visit. But not today. Eyes met eyes. Nods were met with nods and people went about whatever it is they did to keep busy. Even the chickens and dogs sensed it opting to lie in the shade of a bush or under rusty car chassis.

It was a sad week in the little pueblito.

There were two funerals this week out here in the Mexican outback far from the city lights. Both were sad. Both were tragic. Both deaths came a day apart and the sense of loss in the pueblo settled as thickly as the palpable Mexican dust.

They don’t have modern facilities out here so there’s no long period of grieving or viewing or waiting for all the relatives to show up. The furnace of the Mexican sun doesn’t take a break for the living or the dead. After a hurried Mass in the chapels, the deceased are quickly interred.

One of the deaths had been to a young man. The pride of the family, he had actually come back during the summer to spend it in his old colonia (neighborhood). He was on his way out of this. No long days in the pangas for him. No backbreaking work in the chili farms either. He had been attending a trade school for accounting and had already been working in an air-conditioned office in the city while living with relatives. He had a girlfriend. No dirt under his fingernails. He was living the dream. Up and out. Viva Mexico.

At 22-years-old doing what many of us did at 22, his car was speeding along a serpentine cliff road at 3 a.m. With a treasured Ipod blaring in his ears he was not able to avoid the big truck coming the other way and his car went over the cliff. Open cans of beer were found throughout the vehicle. He had many friends and everyone knew the young man. The funeral was large and well-attended with understandably much grief that a life so bright was snuffed out.

The other funeral was for “Abluelito” (little grandfather). I never knew his real name. Deaf in one year and blind in one eye, he spent most of his days sitting on the porch of his grey cinderblock home using his cane to rock himself back and forth. He loved watching kids with that one eye and he could still hear the kids laughing quite well with his one ear. And he could still smile and laugh.

His skin wasn’t tanned. It was sun-dyed permanently the color of chocolate. It was more like jerky with creases frozen on his features by hours in the Baja sun. Those lines tell you when a man has spent most of his life frowning or smiling. At one time he might have been rather tall for one of these folks but when I last saw him alive he was perhaps only to my shoulders. Tough old guy. In his day, I’m sure he could’ve outworked, outdrank and still kicked my butt. I was told he was quite the hellion as a young man. They said he was 106 years-old. He only laughed when asked about it.

As things go, the United States was pretty modern at the turn of the century. Rural Mexico in 1900 might as well have been another planet. Calloused gnarled hands attested that Abuelito had worked as a fisherman and had rowed to his fishing spots to drop nets or fishing lines with his father and brothers. He worked the fields barefooted, not to sell to market but so that they could eat. Going to town was a week-long excursion with the family burro. A brother and a cousin fought with Pancho Villa in the revolution. He was already in his 30’s the first time he talked to a gringo and thought they looked pretty funny. He never rode in a vehicle until he was in his 50’s. He never had electricity or running water until he was in his 90’s. He had never spoken on a telephone. He didn’t like TV, but loved his portable radio. He had one wife for 40 years and never took another. His kids were long gone to the big cities.

Abuelito died peacefully in his sleep and that history went with him. No big ceremony. All his friends were long gone. Immediate family bid goodbye. He was put in a simple box; loaded in the back of a rickety pickup truck with two friends sitting in the back to hold him in. I watched them bump down that seared asphalt to the cemetery somewhere out in the bush. One had to sit on top of the coffin like an ice-chest you’d toss in your own pickup. No disrespect meant. There was just no other place to sit. A dog missing a lot of it’s hair trotted after them barking for as long as it could keep up.

Two lives ended in the Baja countryside. One with a future that will never happen. One with a past that will never happen again. Two sad losses for different reasons.


That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED WEEK OF SEPT. 17, 2006 IN WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS

PICKING THROUGH THE TRASH!

So there I was this past week working the panga with clients hunting for dorado on the fishing grounds. After a storm, especially like the huge hurricane that ripped through the Baja two weeks ago, you’re crazy not to go out and chase the mahi.

I hate when we have storms. I mean, I love watching it and it’s nice to get some “change” instead of 100 degree sunshine day-in-and-day-out as long as folks are safe. However, from the perspective of fishing, it’s the pits. We have to cancel trips. We have to refund money and there’s nothing more surly than a group of anglers being told they CANNOT go fishing. The longer they sit around drinking beer too, the grumpier they get! Can’t say I blame ‘em.

However, once the sun comes blazing back out, it’s prime time dorado season as far as I’m concerned. Mainly, there’s so much junk in the water, it’s like putting cookies on the table in front of 2nd graders and seeing if they’ll eat ‘em!

When I say “junk” I use the term lightly. To me, it’s not necessarily trash. Indeed, in most cases it’s not. Generally it’s all the stuff that gets washed off the terra firma and into the water. Sure, it certainly can mean trash (aka garbage!) as well as parts of houses, buildings and other man-made items that got launched then laundered by the storm. However, moreso it’s all the grass, sticks, brush and even whole trees that get carried to sea by Mother Nature.

You folks in S. California chase fish under kelp paddies, right? You know how prolific the right paddy can be, right? Well, imagine a kelp paddy the size of a city block or a line of paddies several miles long snaking along a current line. Well, that’s the kind of debris I’m talking about and it can be dorado city if you hit it right! Not only that, but other fish also take up residence in these areas.

Very often, the lines of clutter will follow current breaks. Fish of all kinds, not just dorado, but also marlin, tuna and other species hang out in current breaks but now have the benefit of the cover provided by the debris. Additionally some fish such as flying fish, dorado and other species lay their eggs in these areas providing food for small and larger fish alike and soon a whole eco-system…a food chain if you will…suddenly materializes within days of the storms. A smart angler knows how to work the trash lines!

If you have a fish finder or temp guage, use your tools and learn to distinguish between a submerged log and a school of wahoo or dorado. Remember, logs and trash down swim and don’t move against the current. With your temp guage work the warmer sides of the current break. Also, for Pete’s sake, while you’re looking at all the toys on your instrument panel, don’t forget to look up once in awhile while you’re driving the boat. Don’t be a Gilligan! There’s nothing like hitting a submerged palm tree or a tangle of mesquite branches with your hull or props to screw up your warranty or ruin your fishing day! Definitely, don’t go blasting through the zone full throttle.

Slow troll the area with live or dead bait or slow swimming lures like Rapalas or skittering lures like your spreader bar, birds or flat headed lures that “pop” and jump like flying fish or other baitfish. One trick one of my captains uses is to catch bonito and strip them out. He then ties chunks to submerged logs in an area. He then comes back later and often there’s fish congregated in the area. Keep your eyes open for feeding fish or birds diving an area of trash. It can produce great results! If you get to a mass of brush, throw a handful of baits at it and see what pops up. I have seen dorado near the surface, tuna underneath and marlin on the perimeter of one of these fish hotels.

Also, sad to say, a lot of animals also get washed out to sea. Cows and other wild critters like seals get killed in the maelstrom. Floating carcasses can also hold a tremendous amount of fish as small bait feed off the body attracting the larger predators.

On a more important subject, I just got some information from our amigo, Eddie Dalmau, who reps the Van Wormer Resorts on the East Cape and wanted to share it with you:

EAST CAPE HURRICANE RELIEF I’m getting a lot of phone calls and e-mails from folks eager to lend a hand to those Baja residents who’s lives were devastated by Hurricane John on Sept. 1st. The category 3 storm ripped up areas of La Ribera, Buenavista, Los Barriles, Mulege, Santa Rosalia and pueblitos in between. Most of the hotels have recovered, but many in the community are not so fortunate to have the means to re-build as they live on or near the poverty level.

As most of you have already heard, Hurricane John made landfall in the East Cape area of Baja California on Friday, September 1, 2006. This category three hurricane, with winds clocked at more than 150 mph devastated the local communities of La Ribera, Buena Vista, Los Barriles, Mulege and Santa Rosalia. As the hotels in the area continue to rebuild, many in the community are not as fortunate. According to Eddie Dalmau who reps for the Van Wormer Resorts, Charlene Wenger of the East Cape Community Urgent Care Clinic, has informed him that they have set up several command centers in the area to help those in need. They are distributing food, water, clothes, building materials, and financial aid to those effected. Funds are limited and diminishing quickly. For those of you who would like to show your support for the residents of the East Cape, the clinic is asking for cash donations. Any contribution will be greatly appreciated. 100% of the money collected will go to the East Cape relief effort. Please send your donations to: Van Wormer Resorts, C/O: East Cape Community Urgent Care Clinic, 24007 Ventura Blvd, #265, Calabasas, CA 91302. Please make all checks payable to: East Cape Community Urgent Care Clinic, AC. By the way, I’m typing this up and we’re waiting for tropical storm Lane to turn into a hurricane this weekend. What a year! I better head to the store to load up on water and batteries again! I’m trying to send this to the California office before I lose power again!

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Published in Western Outdoor News week of Sept. 10, 2006

PHOTO: The "calm" just before the storm. Rain starts falling and skies grow ominous, but within hours 115 mile-an- hour-wind and the eye of Hurricane John will pass over...

HURRICANE DOUBLE WHAMMY!

Wow! OK…so in the last column I was a bit flip about hurricane watching and there’s a point where you do have to take it seriously especially if you live down here and you’re directly in harm’s way.

Well, it looks like most of us survived Hurricane John that rampaged and ravaged the Baja this past week. It was interesting in that once it passed Cabo, there seemed to be very little coverage about it. Many folks in the states, judging by my e-mails, think the chubasco simply breezed through (no pun intended). Funny how that is. If a storm isn’t battering Cabo or Acapulco or Miami or New Orleans, like the proverbial tree that fall in the woods and no one hears it, the storm never happened.

On the contrary, much of Baja took a Hulk Hogan body slam to the mat. Cabo got a bye this time in many respects. John was supposed to beat Cabo like many other previous storms in it’s nether regions then bounce outside west to the Pacific and away. Instead, it came right up the gut of the Sea of Cortez.

Folks who had left Cabo to find refuge in the East Cape and La Paz suddenly found themselves in a Category 3 chubasco with the eye rolling directly over head Saturday night. We’re talking winds in the 110-120 pound class and anything in that wind, wood, rocks, parts of houses, pieces of tin roof are also moving that fast!

Let me tell you what it’s like being in total darkness with no electricity and a howl that resembles being in a jet turbine. It’s deafening. I heard windows shattering and huge trees falling over. Rain came sideways. Door were torn off hinges and roofs ceased to exist. Electric transformers were blowing up. Then nothing…dead silence.

Some people came outside thinking it was over. Others shouted at them that it was only the “eye” passing over. Half an hour later, round two clobbered us again. I saw part of a tree go through a window and saw the wind peel paint off the side of our building.

Cabo got it to a degree. The East Cape and La Paz got pummeled so bad that even President Fox had to come by to visit. But, up the coast in Constitution, Mulege and Santa Rosalia, they are still looking for people who were swept away in the torrents of water and mud. I saw photos of municipal buses stood on their ends and holes punched in concrete walls by winds over 100 miles hurling objects like battering rams.

Funny thing about hurricanes though. Even though the winds eventually go tranquillo and the rain moves off, these storms continue to be sinister.

Washes (arroyos) can continue to roil often trapping unwary motorists who try to cross and either stall or get stuck in unsuspecting mud. Many post-hurricane deaths are attributed to this every season. As I write this there are reports of tourists in a camper who were washed out to sea and a local mom and children who tried to ford a seemingly shallow runoff.

As well, there’s a problem with disease and pollution. Mexico doesn’t get a lot of rain ,but it can get a lot of rain at one time. Drains, ditches, canals and sewers, which are often not exactly state-of-the-art to begin with, suddenly get sluiced out or overflow into homes, streets, marinas and other waterways. You can imagine what kind of a biologically toxic brew that is. You couldn’t pay me to swim in the ocean anywhere near a city or pueblo within a week or more after a storm. That “brown” water is not always because of mud flow.

Additionally, that same water turns to mud and dries. It turns to dust and now becomes airborne to be inhaled and also land on food. That’s why cities often close outdoor restaurants and taco stands for several days after storms. Right now, city workers wear face masks to avoid breathing the potentially hazardous dust.

The water that does not dry sits in puddles. It breeds mosquitoes in that same water that flowed out’ve the drains. Mosquitoes bite people and folks start coming down with things like Dengue Fever which is a really painful flu and can be deadly (like any flu) especially to the very old and young.

Should you cancel your upcoming trip down here? Nah. I wouldn’t. But forewarned is forearmed if you know what to avoid.


That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

PUBLISHED in WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS WEEK of SEPT. 3, 2006

WAITING TO BREAK WIND IN BAJA !

So, here I am tapping furiously on my computer trying to make deadline with WON while simultaneously watching my laptop computer screen; the ocean; the sky; and the beach hoping my boats get back before the winds come up. Hurricane John is bearing down on us and I’ve already lost computer power and internet several times today so I’m scrambling to get this written and e-mailed back to WON.

Looks like we’re not going to be able to dodge this one. We’ve been watching Hurricane John build to the south for two days now and all the forecasts and NOAA computer models have it coming right up to punch Baja in the gut.

This isn’t our first hurricane of the year. We’ve had several warnings here in La Paz where I am, but none have brought anything more than an hour of rain or so. I think John is one to take seriously.

All day long, local folks were taking things down. Plants and swingsets; barbecues and awnings; smaller boats were being pulled out’ve the water and put on trailers while larger ones were either being tied down or in some cases running for the horizon to get out’ve harm’s way.
Pangeros were putting their boats on the beach and putting in the drain plugs so the boats will fill up with water and will be too heavy to blow away. There’s been a steady stream of boat traffic back and forth across my window all day and you can tell by the speeds that these boats aren’t out for pleasure cruises or fishing trips. There’s a controlled sense of urgency.

I saw people boarding up and taping up windows. There were apparently thousands of folks lined up at the stores in Cabo this morning buying provisions and one amigo said “panic purchasing” has also hit here in La Paz where long lines were seen at gas stations as well as local grocery and variety stores.

I’ve been through perhaps half-a-dozen of these now and, although I don’t like them from the perspective of running a fishing business, it’s not like being in say, an earthquake or tornado. You can’t prepare for those. I have been watching the weather websites all day. I have my stuff stashed. It’s currently clear right now and a beautiful Baja day, but I know that in a few hours, we’ll probably see Mother Nature kick like the south end of a Mexican mule that ate a basketful of habanero chiles.

As long as everyone is safe, it’s not a bad thing to be around. I’m not talking about the poor folks who got hit by the likes of Katrina. In most cases, no one will be losing their homes in these garden-variety chubascos and most of us locals kind of accept that this stuff happens. Some roads will get washed out. There will be some flooding from drains that only get wet the rest of the year when someone empties an ice chest.

The biggest thing is convincing tourist that it’s OK. We’re gonna probably get a bit wet and it’s gonna get windy. Some things are gonna leak. You may not get to do that horsey-back riding thing at sunset you looked forward to and ex-nay on the scuba diving tomorrow. If you take precautions and listen to people in charge (Let’s not fire up the boat and see if you can troll around the eye of the storm!) it’s gonna be like a Disneyland ride with some eye-opening stuff and everyone comes out at the end with a big exhalation of breath and a great Baja story to tell. I’ve had some of the best hurricane parties ever during storms and storms parties throw together some of the neatest people.

In the grand scheme of things, for tourists, hurricanes aren’t an emergency. They are a big INCONVENIENCE. Planes aren’t on time. You can’t get your suntan. You might have to stay an extra night or two in your beachside room or condo instead of hustling back to work or commuting on the freeway. You might not get to fish. You may have an evening of candlelight because the electricity goes out. Is it so bad that no one can reach you on your cell phone for a few hours? Is the butter-dipped lobster at the restaurant really that bad? You’re not losing your home. Your kid might miss his football practice. You’ll miss that back-to-school sale at Wal Mart. There’s a big difference between an emergency and an inconvenience.

That being said, I sure hope this is a mild one and everyone stays safe. I’ve already had to cancel my boats so I’m going to play in the rain tomorrow; spend time inside with a big plate of nachos and have some laughs with my fishermen and their familes and take lots of photos! I have to end this and get it mailed out before we lose power!

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.