Baja Entry #8

1/20/09 6:52AM Santa Rosallilita beach campsite

First off, I forgot a funny story from our drunken night at the cantina: when we were at the bar, drinking a round after returning to the cantina for wood, water, etc., an older gentleman came to chat with us. We had spoken with him earlier, at lunch, and had learned that he was from Seattle, had a house in el barrio in Mulege, and came to Playa Santispac on Wednesdays and Saturdays to play poker with the other ex-pats. His name escapes me, but when we saw him later that day he stopped to ask, "You know I was thinking, you're all from San Francisco, right? Well, I don't know whether to hit on the boys or the girls!" Domingo laughingly replied, "Both!" I can't remember if Lemur responded or if he simply had a look of shock or disgust on his face, but the guy then turned to Lemur and says, "What? You don't think a 67-year-old can get it up?" It was hysterical. And thankfully rhetorical. Then he disappeared to el banos.

OK, so the morning after the nigh of mayhem, Jack stopped at our campsite. He peered into the unzipped window of mine and Courtney's tent and said, "Well, you don't look too bad after all. Hahaha...Now I've got a plan for us today. Listen: I'll let y'all clean up, eat, and do whatever you need to do. I'll come back around 11:30 for 2 workers to help me rig up the boat for sailing. Then I'll return at 1 to get the others. Sound good?" We both replied affirmatively. Carl also responded from inside the walls of his tent.

We moved slowly that morning, not surprising given the events of the prior day and evening. Lemur looked, as Court put it, "like he wants to kill himself." Personally I felt shitty until after we took showers, by rigging an outdoor shower system to Mingo's truck and hanging the showerhead on an adjacent, vacant palapa. And breakfast--chicken tamales and egg, cheese, tortilla, and chorizo mix. With Tapatio (tap that tio!). By that time it was decided that Court and Lemur would assist Captain Jack while Mingo, Blackness, and myself traveled to Mulege to re-supply. Carl would stay and watch over the camp, i.e. wrap himself in a blanket, lay in the hammock, and take a siesta. We returned after purchasing mas comida y cervezas. Blackness broke a bottle of beer right outside the store, prompting Mingo to proclaim, "Alcohol abuse!". Captain Jack returned to take us to his boat. We climbed aboard the Mandan for what turned out to ironically be a 3-hour tour on the Sea of Cortez. We didn't see dolphins or whales, but it was beautiful. It got a bit windy and chilly during the boat trip. This was the first cloudy day on Santispac that we'd encountered. Some notes about Captain Jack: he spoke often about seeking a "taco" to live on the boat with him, often saying this with a grin and then making a sly comment in reference to Courtney; he requested that we not bring alcohol on the boat; and he had a curious pictures in the cabin of his boat. It showed him, much younger, and what appeared to be his wife and son, after a high school or college graduation. I saw it when I first entered the cabin of the boat, but later, after going up on deck and then returning to the cabin, it looked like he had tucked it behind another picture, so that you couldn't see it. Clearly he didn't want to field any questions about his past, which seemed to be an unspoken understanding that we all had with him. Whatever he did tell us was of his own volition, but for us to inquire and be nosy about his life and the details of his past would have been some kind of violation of our association with Jack.

After our sailing adventure we returned to our camp. Carl cooked up a delicious ground beef-tomato sauce and we ate pasta after devouring guacomole and chips. Jack returned after he had fulfilled his radio duties and ate pasta with us. He operates the regional weather report via ham radio for a network that runs up and down the Pacific and Cortez coastlines of Baja. On this particular evening, Carl and I were the only ones to drink more than 3 beers. The others were disinterested in drinking for the time being, given all the debauchery of the previous evening. The fact that I was willing to and did indeed imbibe more alcohol probably does not bode well for me. In any case, we all opted to retire to bed early. Court and I got silly once we were in the tent, talking about the "In-nagger-ation '09" and Lil Wayne running as Obama's VP, painting the White House purple and gold, spinning rims on the presidential fleet, and other such racially charged ridiculousness. We basically got a big bang out of ourselves, which I generally believe to be the purpose of life--identify the ridiculous in a situation and entertain yourself endlessly.

We woke up around 8:30AM or so, after a somewhat restless slumber. It was stuffy in the tent most of the night, hence I slept in chonies with my beach towel draped over my legs. Meanwhile Courtney has started to develop some sort of rash/bugbites up and down her legs. I don't know what that's about. Anyways, we did our breakfast/showers/pack up business, shooed off the blanket mafia for the upteenth time (persistent bastards hocking their "junk") and left our plapa on Playa Santispac. We stopped in Santa Rosalia for petrol and pandulcia, which is an absolutely delicious pastry, something like a donut but much, much better. Then we drove about 90 miles to Guerrero Negor, wehre we re-supplied for our final days in Baja. We had to stop for inspections at 2 military checkpoints between Santispac and Santa Rosallilita. They waved us on at the Baja CA/Baja CA Sur border. We topped off our tanks shortly after the border. The two chicos who assisted us looked more like adult lesbians than like teenage boys, they had big asses and short hair gelled to their given fancies. They also were dressed in cargo shorts and t-shirts with random graphic designs, pretty standard wear for butch lesbians. Anyways, after marveling over their resemblance to baby-faced butch lesbians, we gained back the hour we lost crossing the border and got to Santa Rosallilita at 4PM. We went to our previous spot, cracked open Tecates, and set up camp for our final noche en Mexico. Court and I opted not to pitch our tent. Instead we laid out sleeping pads and bags in the truck bed and fell sleep under the stars. We awoke early, watched the sunrise, and saw Lemur and Blackness had done the same and were seated in the camp chairs around the firepit. OK, stopping here. Breakfast is ready.

P.S. Pandulcia from Santa Rosalia=excellent