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.