baja trip

From: Bob Galvan (kasplash@crl.com-DeleteThis)
Date: Thu Jun 05 1997 - 00:18:43 PDT


Received: from hplms26.hpl.hp.com by opus.hpl.hp.com with ESMTP (1.37.109.18/15.5+ECS 3.3+HPL1.1) id AA145366241; Thu, 5 Jun 1997 00:37:27 -0700
Return-Path: <kasplash@crl.com-DeleteThis>
Received: from newsadm.crl.com (n2.crl.com) by hplms26.hpl.hp.com with ESMTP (1.37.109.16/15.5+ECS 3.3+HPL1.1S) id AA007516242; Thu, 5 Jun 1997 00:37:22 -0700
Received: from crl2.crl.com (unknown@crl2.crl.com-DeleteThis [165.113.1.13]) by newsadm.crl.com (8.8.5/8.8.5) with SMTP id AAA23485; Thu, 5 Jun 1997 00:25:26 -0700 (PDT)
Received: by crl2.crl.com id AA18924 (5.65c/IDA-1.5); Thu, 5 Jun 1997 00:18:44 -0700
Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 00:18:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Galvan <kasplash@crl.com-DeleteThis>
To: Campsurfdawg list -- David Bartolotta <david@bartolotta.com-DeleteThis>, Clay Feeter <WTRACKSHQ@aol.com-DeleteThis>, "Colin J. Case" <crannis@compuserve.COM-DeleteThis>, "Galvan, Daniel CDT " <x01397@exmail.usma.army.mil-DeleteThis>, John Egan <jregan@aloha.net-DeleteThis>, Eric Simonsen <ESSphoto@aol.com-DeleteThis>, Flash Gordon <flash@well.com-DeleteThis>, Jock Doss <jdoss@marin.org-DeleteThis>, Leah Doran <vivid@surfnetusa.com-DeleteThis>, Lisa Bauer <recycqueen@aol.com-DeleteThis>, Liz Brady <floraslk@harborside.com-DeleteThis>, Edward B Doubleday <day2@interramp.com-DeleteThis>, Patrick Hamilton <mycochef@aol.com-DeleteThis>, Steve Ulrich <stevenu@unspoken.com-DeleteThis>, Don Wieneke <wieneke@slip.net-DeleteThis>, Wind Talkers <wind_talk@opus.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis>
Subject: baja trip
Message-Id: <Pine.SUN.3.91.970604234350.18520A-100000@crl2.crl.com-DeleteThis>
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII

Dear friends,

Herein is the first installment of a 2week tale of adventure.
If you are not intersected, just ask and I will remove you from this
exclusive list. Those who are truly rabid may receive video frame grabs
in jpeg format after I catch up on my day job.

Salute,
Baja Bob

                    Camp Surfdawg 1997 - The Nomad Way

                                  Prelude
                               The Unplugging

It takes all damn saturday to put the dive business on autopilot. Pay
bills, send invoices, schedule for two weeks, meet with the guys, then
unload the dive gear and reconfigure the mighty KSPLASH van to Baja mode.
It's 100 degrees and dead calm in Corte Madera so it's mighty hard to pack
the warm clothes and rubber suits that my past journals scream for. I
haven't bought any food yet either.

I get to Tony's yard in the Hunter's Point Shipyard at 5:30 to hookup with
our new home, the 15' dual-axle Nomad housetrailer that we've been working
on for the past month. We put new axles, tires, and shocks on it to give
16" clearance at the dump valves and to make it "Tough Enough For Baja".
I find new paint on the formerly rusty frame, but some reassembly is now
required. As I'm screwing around, Tony arrives with a brand new portable
generator. It's slightly larger than a 5 gallon water jug, and twice as
heavy.

Soon we're back at Tony's house loading his stuff. He's been wrapping up
his business all day too, and is no more organized than I, so it takes a
while. Good thing we've done this many times before. The Nomad swallows
Tony's food and drink stash very nicely, along with sails, mast, booms, and
the smaller boards. The van is left nice and roomy for lay-down travel and
good access to the tools in back.

10pm we're showered and ready to roll, but the final light check finds the
Nomad's left blinker not working. So out comes the logic probe and the tool
box, I hit the pavement while Tony holds the flashlight. Welcome to Baja!
I find that MY wiring job is good, but the original Ford wiring to that
light has died. We open up the van's taillight and tap off of that wire.
11pm departure and we're dirty already.

Day #1+
=======
Midnight. We stop for fuel at the north end of the I-5 run. The mighty
460 is demanding Premium for the extra workload. Tony takes the wheel and
I sack out. 2:30AM finds us at Harris Ranch, but it's closed. We have to
settle for Denny's.

I'm driving again, listening to nonstop Oldies out of Bakersfield. At 4:30
the eastern sky is getting light and James Brown is screaching "I Feel
Good", one of my personal all-time favorites. The Grapevine rises to meet
us like a big wave from a long period south swell.

LA is foggy and cool. I sleep through it all. Luckily, Tony is driving
at the time. In Nowind Diego we do the final errands - food, fuel, octane
booster, insurance. Border crossing at noon and through TJ no problemo,
amigos. 1:30 (?) finds us at the venerable Hotel Palomar ingesting 16oz
Margaritas and crab tacitos. We on vacation now!

The next block of time is but a blur of Pemex and octane booster, fish
tacos and washboard roads, check points and tire pressure adjustments,
until at long last we pull into Campo Nuevo.

We set our sights on a different spot this year since there is so much
Baja to do, it was time to get unstuck from the regular spot and check out
another one. Campo Nuevo is a jumping scene as we pull in, with surf
camps packed wall to wall and a strong contingent of locals watching,
drinking and booming their boxes from their shiny vehicles. Fortunately,
there is a spot just our size right in the thick of it.

We swing in, unhook, unload, rig up and go out on light winds to surf a
very Waddell-like wave with a about 6 others. There is at least one hot
pro out, constantly tacking and flying. We come in at sundown as the wind
backs off. It's a puzzle of eat, drink, dress, and sort out camp all at
the same time. We're wiped out, but wet and happy. Crackers and cheese
are the bulk of dinner.

Day #3 ====== I wake up hurting all over. It's hot. The sun rose out of
the sea, yet we're still on the west coast. How does that work? Camp
is a mess. We futz around and sort it out and eat until, by 11am Pacifico
Time, we're settled in and feeling good.

THE KEY CONUNDRUM

We have 2 van keys, and there is no secret easy way in like on the old
KSPLASH. Since we're new in town, we had locked everthing up to go sailing
and and stashed (1) van key and (1) Nomad key in a very special spot near
the rear of the trailer which is near the front of the van.

When we came in, I unlocked the van (my bedroom) and placed the key on my
Action Packer rather than walk through the sand back to the key sash with
my clean wet bare feet. I'd move it after I got dry. Somehow, in the
process of getting camp together, that key had dissappeared. We searched
the sand over and over, we searched the van, our pockets, the astro turf,
everywhere. It was just Gone.

So this morning I'm moving stuff around and I ask Tony if the vent on his
bagged Seatrend is open. He says "Check it." So I pull it out, and there
is no plug in the board. Next step, hold up the bag so the contents come
out. Onto the carpet falls (1) vent plug and (1) Ford van key!

It felt so good, like when the magician gives yor watch back...[applause]

We sailed again late in the day, on even bigger stuff. I'm on my 8'8"/5.3
and Tony's on 9'0/5.9. We had it to ourselves for a while, but the crowd
came out around 5pm. A dozen sailors is a crowd here.

Rum and coke at sunset. The neighbor kids bring back a dozen corvina,a
big pompano and a small halibut from their fishing trip down the road a
piece. The big Eurodude who is rumored to be a chef fillets them by
lantern light and soon several camps feast on fish tacos late into the
night, as the full moon spills its silver glow all over the fish guts
sinking in the sea, and on the plastic bits in the sand, and on the
unshaven unwashed unemployed unrepentant ecstatic drunken sailors.



This archive was generated by hypermail 2b29 : Mon Dec 10 2001 - 02:31:58 PST