On another road trip down the Baja with a buddy named Barry we found a beautiful secluded beach called Pelican Bay. Traveling with Barry through Mexico was very interesting. Barry, may he rest in peace, was a folk singer and guitarist who knew hundreds if not thousands of songs. Everywhere we went Barry broke the ice with the locals by sitting in the parks, bars, palapas, restaurants or just on the beach and playing his music. Mexicans love live music and readily join in. Almost everyday Barry wound up in a group of local musicans passing around the guitar with each playing their songs for the others. These group bi-lingual songfests were often lubricated by tequila and/or cervesa.One late 70's evening we were camped on Cocos Beach near Mulege with a few other gringo hippy road warriors types. Barry and met a small family heading back north who told us about this magical hidden paradise they called Pelican Bay that they'd found some miles south of Mulege. Maps were drawn by firelight in the sand and the next morning they continued north, we headed south. After stopping in Mulege to stock up Barry and i drove on. We scoured the landscape watching for the half hidden dirt road that led to the bay. We found a couple that looked promising but each led nowhere. We were about to give up and admit that the beer, firelight and maps in the sand weren't the best dead reckoning advice when there to our left was another promising prospect, off we went.
This one was definately headed for a beach, we could smell the ocean, hear the waves and see the pelicans circling overhead. We came to an arroyo and got out to walk the rest of the way. Sure enough the bay was only about 50 yards ahead. We turned and walked back to the old panel truck discussing our options and decieded we could build a bridge outta rocks and mesquite branches then take a run at her [ain't youth grand]. We built our 'bridge', and i, being the old chevy's owner, backed 'er up and gunned it. as i hit the rim of the little dry wash the chevy lurched left, bounced off our pile of rubble and cleared the far bank in midair. It bounced at couple of times and stopped dead.
I tried to re-start 'er, the engine turned fine but wouldn't fire up. We opened the hood and saw that the distributer cap, located up against the firewall, had been smashed. Now what? We decieded we could, by pushing and using the jack, get the 'er last 30 yards down to the beach. We won. There we were setup in paradise.
The next morning we scoured the area back around our 'landing strip' and found what we hoped was every missing piece of the distributor cap lying in the sand. The place was incredible, hundreds of pelicans, transparent water and most incredibly not a speck of garbage anywhere. Many years later Pablo and his family came to visit us up in Roberts Creek and we found out the bay he'd found was miles away from ours.
Getting out was another story. Tomorrow's.
