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We
began our last day in San Felipe at a restaurant on the Malecon, overlooking
the Sea of Cortez, where we lingered over a hearty breakfast of Huevos
Rancheros and Bloody Marys. |
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young waitress was very friendly and the service was good, although here
again, as you can see, our trouble with the language caused another slight
misunderstanding when we asked to see menus. No harm done. She apologized
and we all shared a good-natured cross-cultural laugh at ourselves. |
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After
breakfast we took a walk on the Malecon, which was all but deserted
due to the fact that we were there between seasons, so to speak. We
wanted to take in the local cultural sights, but worried that without
a guide we wouldn't know where to go. |
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Chuck spotted someone who looked like she might be able to help, and
asked if she'd be willing to show us around. As luck would have it,
she was apparently part of the hospitality industry in some way, and
she indicated she'd be glad to do anything we wanted her to. |
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She
just had to go get some things from her brother's boat first, she
said. Probably her tour guide uniform, we figured. "You wait
here," she told us.
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Then she disappeared into the sea of pangas that lined the beach.
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While
we waited for her to change we found a statue near the beach of
a fisherman pulling up a totuava. His was probably legal
back then.
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ten minutes later our guide returned in her uniform with her hair
down. She was very friendly and asked us what we wanted her to do.
We said we'd like her to show us more statues. |
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Later
that afternoon we set out to find Mark's land---our raison d' something-or-other
for coming to the Baja. Not that we really needed a raison
anyway. Hours later in the middle of nowhere we finally located the sales
office. The office manager, Juan Jesus Monte Cristo, roused himself from
his nap and came outside to meet us. |
Mark listened carefully as Juan Jesus Monte Cristo 'splained to him that
the land Mark had so long paid lease fees on was in fact an infinitesimal
speck in an undeveloped 250 million (that's million) acre plot
(bigger than, for example, Los Angeles County) with no roads, lot lines,
water, or life as we know it. He could, however, if he so chose, trade
in his lease on that lot for a $1000 discount on a trailer site in an
RV park closer to town. With his discount figured in, the balance he owed
would be only, for you today, $18,500.
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Oh
well, lucky in fish, unlucky in real estate. But we'd come this far and
we wanted to see something. So just for the hell of it we got some
vague directions and took a ride out to see the general area Mark's land
was in. Or, or to be more exact, to stare off at a horizon beyond which
Mark's land may lie. Not a bad place, really. We took some pictures. A
bird flew by while we were there. |
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night we had many Margaritas at George's restaurant, the undisputed heavyweight
champion Margarita spot in the known Idiot Sportsmen universe. Later we
walked around town and found the head of a really big fish that had been
dead a long time. |
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Next...Baja Trip Report
Previous...Fishing
Day 2 |
