How The %&@! Did We End Up Here!

The morning came quickly and I found myself nursing a slight hangover. I was the first to wake up but laid in bed for a few moments trying to take in last night’s events. As I laid there watching the sun peek through the curtains, slowly a sound seeped into my consciences as if I was still dreaming. The sound was loud and irritating like a motorcycle that will not start. I leaned up on one arm and slowly looked over the side of the bed. There it was the maker of the irritating noise. Four paws covered in white fur with sky blue eyes, tongue hanging out to the side with what looked like a tennis ball in her mouth. I could see that hope sprang eternal as she glared at me like the photos of the RCA dog from the seventies with her head cocked to one side. “You better take her out seeing how she saw you wake up first;” came a husky voice from under the covers. I rolled over and plopped out of bed. Now Graceland does not have a tail only a nub and when she gets excited her whole ass wiggles and the nub moves like the remainder of an amputee’s body part. If you were to walk past her and her sphere of perpetual joy, she would pick it up and race in front of you and drop the toy in your pathway. This is the curse we live with on an hourly basis of every day. One must understand that the minute Karen and I walk away from that camper Grace will attempt to chew your face off if you walk too near. This is the sole reason she was chosen to come along in a household of three dogs. I dawned the days uniform of cut off shorts and a tank top, threw on my flip flops and out we went. In the parking lot of the campground is where I decided to play fetch with Grace but after the first ball toss a chorus of barking came from the other campsites as she sprang off to chase the ball. Everyone in the camp was now up.
Elke and Chris wanted to mail off the postcards they purchased the day before so before leaving all four of us went on a morning hike to find the only post office in town. Afterwards we picked up last minute supplies, filled our gas tanks then headed out to Los Cerritos which was about ten miles down the road. Now Karen and I were utilizing a book to help instruct us through the Baja which happened to be in its third edition. The book was still four years old yet we followed its instructions to a tee. Somehow we made the wrong turn and convinced Chris and Elke that the dirt road the book is specifying is the one we were on so we kept on driving. Within a hundred yards into the desert I found myself on three wheels with the fourth wheel a foot off the ground. I don’t think El Dorado was designed to do this but here I was stuck on an isolated dirt road that was a mile and a half long heading towards what the author of the book said was the best beach on the Baja. There was no mention that the damn thing was a true four wheel drive road! Out came Elke and Chris who with Karen pushed me on through. When we reached our final destination we were sadly disappointed to find out that the town of Todos Santos had closed the beach area due to the sale of the property to some developer who had condos in mind! Son-of-a @#$%! Now I had to drive out with the anxieties looming ahead. We decided to get a bite to eat before doing the deed. Chris was sure he saw another road that connected to our purgatory after the four wheel debacle. So instead of eating, Chris took one of my two way radios and decided to walk the road he saw and discovered that this road was the best way out with no boulders, roller coaster turns or soft sand pits in the road. He radioed back that he would wait for us at the exit and within minutes were back on solid paved road heading south.
We only drove for what seemed like a few miles when we saw the signs for Playa Los Cerritos and turned in. The Pacific winds were blowing gently as the sun was starting it’s decent over the horizon. Karen and I quickly located a spot for both vehicles to park. We leveled out the camper and with Grace leading the way scurried to the beach that was about a hundred yards away. As we sat enjoying the sunset and watching Grace bark at the waves, one of the seasoned locals named Marcos who boondocked this camp since early November sat down next to us to give us the lowdown on the beach scene. A biker from Arizona who was newly divorced with a fat pension brought him this far south. He made mention that tonight at the local gringo bar called the Sand Bar was all-u-can-eat pizza night and that most everyone in the camp heads over. He even offered to give our group a lift over if we wanted. Then two other campers named Dennis and Pat came over with Elke and Chris to chat. Marcos made the introductions and we all sat to watch the last daylight fade away.
The idea of pizza and beers sounded very good seeing how none of us felt like cooking dinner. Marcos was just pulling up in an old 82 two door hatchback Chevy Citation when Elke knocked at our door. Dennis and Pat came strolling into our campsite as well and like a college prank stuffed all seven of us into the small car and was off for the night. As we drove out of the campground the poor old car scrapped bottom at every bump. We were laughing hysterically.

“You can check out any time you like…

The rhythmic flapping of a dozen hummingbirds filled the air as each bird individually worked the various flowers on the numerous cacti which grew around the field. The local dogs barked as their masters began laying food dishes out for the morning grub. The scent of a diesel engine tractor lofted through the campground as it sat idling in the lot next door. The clock showed seven thirty when the side door entrance of the Westfalia slid open. Karen and I were still sleeping soundly. Chris made loud throat clearing noises as he and Elke prepared their breakfast; a subtle alarm clock. Karen was the first to stir awake. She gently threw the covers off her as she slid out of the elevated bed. “Wakey, wakey, hand off snakey!” she bellowed as she filled the tea pot with water. I threw the covers off and sprang to my feet like a cheetah on a baby gazelle. Do you really believe that shit? It took me ten minutes to rub the sleep out of my eyes. Then I crept slowly up to sit on the edge of the bed. The tea pot started whistling. I threw on the shorts I wore the day before but made sure a fresh t-shirt was on, poured me a cup of coffee from the now hot french press, sat outside under the awning and smoked the first cigarette of the day.
We made no qualms about prepping for the day’s drive and by eight thirty both vehicles were pulling out. Todos Santos was the today’s destination which happened to be about two hundred kilometers. The journey took us through Lapaz, the largest city on the peninsula. The drive was truly uneventful and drab overall. By mid morning we neared the ten kilometer marker as the mile markers count downwards to the large city. Here we passed a military checkpoint set up to appear as an agriculture stop. There was a tank covered with desert colored netting and what looked like the barrel of a fifty caliber gun set on a tripod with two young recruits listening to their ipods all the while pointing the large weapon at our camper. The traffic leaving the city was backed up a few hundred feet as the soldiers were more alerted to the vehicles heading north on Mex1 with vehicle inspections that occupied several soldiers at a time. The young officer in the southbound lanes took one look at our vehicle and waved us through, lucky I thought. At about a mile north out of the cities edge our caravan needed to gas up at the local Pemex gas station. Two guys that looked like surfers who were heading back to the states stopped over as I was pumping gas. They noticed the surfboard on the back of El Dorado and wanted to chit chat a little. They warned us that the city of LaPaz was preparing for the holiday carnival and so the police force has quadrupled. “Their stopping any gringos for every reason under the sun and pulling the ‘ol pay-up-front-now so-we-don’t-have-to-go-to-the-police-station routine” said the older of the two. I also mentioned how lucky I thought we were to blow through the check point with no hassle. The younger surfer said “These boys on the Baja don’t give a shit about what you may or may not be carrying heading south towards Cabo. You can expect long searches for any American vehicles headed north. Drug runners from Cabo are notorious so everyone gets checked out thoroughly all the way to Ensanada.” Damn! I thought it might have been the dog sitting between Karen and I that swayed the young officer’s mind in stopping and questioning us. Oh! Well! Before parting the two surfers shouted “be careful, have a great time and don’t forget to check out the surf at Los Cerritos!” Chris and I started looking on our maps for this hidden jewel tidbit of information and found it to be a few miles past the town of Todos Santos. Chris also noticed a new highway that loops around the city of Lapaz on his map and made mention of it to me. Without words we knew this was the route of least resistance and possibly no police squirmishes. The highway shortcut guided us through the western edge of the cities barrio and life in this neck of the woods looked pretty dismal. Karen snapped photos of the daily bizarre lifestyles as we scooted along through neighborhoods and in no time was back in the desert terrain.
An hour had passed when Chris slowed the Westy almost to a halt. A local police checkpoint was just ahead. Without even a glance the police officer waved our caravan through and within minutes we were driving on a cobblestone road. This was the main street through Todos Santos. Colorful banners zigzagged across the tops of the street. Every flower seemed to be in full bloom. Tourists dressed in white shorts and straw hats darted in and out of shops and restaurants. Chris and Elke pulled over to park the van in the first open spot. I found a spot a few car lengths down. Chris walked up to Karen and made mention that he needed to stop at an ATM machine and to make a call. Karen and I started to look around some of the local shops instead of waiting around. Todos Santos has many art galleries and Karen wanted to check them all out. Just then Elke walked up and said she’ll have to try the phone call again later because there was no answer so all four of us decided to walk around town and join the colorful clothed tourists.
The town had a real carnival type atmosphere. The first shop we walked into had many colorful items like coconut masks and numerous t-shirts with clever ads pasted on the front and backs. Ponchos and jewelry made from the various regions in Mexico and brightly painted bathroom sinks in a multitude of shapes and sizes. But as the hours passed we noticed that all the shops pretty much carried the same items. Near the center of town Karen and I walked up to the famous Hotel California with Its legendary status that was started from a song written by the infamous rock band the Eagles called Hotel California. Karen was oblivious to the story so it was not as impressive to her as it was for me. I walked through the hallways and arched entrances to the various rooms taking photos like the other tourists who were in the know. The afternoon hours were upon us and the four of us decided we best locate the campground we planned on staying at for the evening. It wasn’t too far away just a few blocks. We drove in and found two campsites side-by-side and made it our night’s headquarters. Karen and I decided to take advantage of the hot showers then made us a nice dinner all the while we were inspecting the day’s loot. We bought some jewelry, clothes and postcards. That night all four of us decided it would be easier to walk back into town and have a few drinks at the famous hotel bar. The margaritas were superb and going down like water! I was so glad we walked to the bar as we headed back to the campers at the end of the night. Two margaritas and one can forget the straight line walking!