Cataviña - magic desert

After waving goodbye to Rojo and Dina and watching them drive North onthe Mex 1 highway, we made our hitching sign for our next stop, Cataviña.

Cataviña is magical.

As you approach the tiny town, a couple of hours South of San Qunitin on Mex 1, the whole desert changes, seemingly in the blink of an eye. Giant red boulders and a vast array of cactus, live all over this area, mysterious and beautiful, this place for us, is the heart of Baja.

After about forty minutes of standing on the road side,waving our sign for Cataviña and hoping a ride would come soon, a sweet gentle guy called Pete stopped and cordially invited us to hop in. Pete is a farmer, traveller and geologist from Montana. Our drive to Cataviña was peaceful and pleasant, we enjoyed Pete's knowledge and musings over the variuous cactus growing in the wonderful desert that embraces Cataviña.

We arrived at Cataviña, where we pícked up some food at one of the little stores. We bought advocadoes, bananas, refried beans, a tin of tuna and some potatoes, some butter, some tomatoes and some beer and cigarettes and tinfoil for baking the potatoes and bananas and some much needed water. Pete very graciously waited for us and took us back 2km to the mouth ofthe arroyo (dried river) which was where we had our hearts set on camping for a night or two.

We had visited Cataviña on our last trip to Baja and were immediately enchanted by its beauty.We had found the arroyo kind of by mistake one day, when we had intended to go and see some cave paintings, made by the Cochimis people whom once inhabited Baja. We had gotten lost and wandered deep into the arroyo, a seemingly endless trail into gigantic boulder hills which tower over you on each side of the valley. We hadn't realised at the time that the painted cave was actually quite close to the highway and up a hill, rather than into the arroyo ( though I am quite sure that there lie more Cochimis paintings undiscovered in this area). Our time in the arroyo had been magical, hence our desire to sleep in its lap for a night or two, as we hadn' t yet spent the night in the desert.



A few people had told us that it was a bad idea to camp in Cataviña beacause of banditos (criminals that come and do bad things to folks who stray from the tourist trail) in the area. They no doubt exist in the Baja, as they do in London, Paris and every other place we have ever been to, except there seem to be more banditos in the big cities of the world. We hadbeen told very gruesome stories of travellers being killed and robbed by the banditos and later, we were told that the Mexican Army had staked out in the desert, beneath the guise of a tourist tourist camper home. The banditos had come calling, only to be greeted by a thousand rounds of gun fire from the army. No more banditos no more baby! Who knows how true or accurate any of the stories we hear on our travels are, often passed by a thosand lips or more before they reach us, no doubt a pinch of romance or horror to spice up the punch of the tale is added somewhere along the way and that's part of the fun of stories I guess.

We decided to chance it and go with our dream of sleeping in the desert rather than let the fear enducing stories that we had heard, force us into a camping park for the night, that would have felt a bit like swimming in a swimming pool and looking out at the beautiful, vast ocean.

Before we set up camp, we wanted to go see the cave paintings that had eluded us on our last visit....The paintings live up on top of a small hill made of boulders, inside a small jaw like cave. The Cochimis lived all over Baja but were forced to hide the meanings and rituals of their legacy, from the Spanish Invaders whom eventually massacred them or converted them to Christianity, so much of the meanings behind the paintings is lost to the sands of time. In the mouth of the burning arroyo though, it is very easy to dream, awake of these simple, mystical people and their spirits seem to reside in every part of this place. There is something else here too.



The stars....With the sun descending, we walked a km or so into the mouth of the arroyo and put up our tent. As the twilight gave way to the dark, dark blue desert night sky, abillion, milion starts came out to play. There are no street lights in Cataviña, so the cold and beautiful stars shine in all their magical desert glory. Many questions enter our minds when faced with the spectacular sight of the universe all around us. At once overcome by the beauty as it shimmers and twinkles and transformsour eyes, we wonder what it is, what we are , why we are, if any reason at all. Will we ever know what this universe is all about. Does it matter? So many questions and so little time in which to find even one answer, so I'll leave it to the theologians to work it out between themselves while I crack on with our story. . .

We built a camp fire from various bits of drift wood and dead cactus and palm which was scattered all over the area. For dinner we baked the potatoes in foil on the hot coals of the fire and ate them with tuna and refried beans, we also mashed up the avocadoes and tomatoes and had guacamole and nachos. The food was most welcome and there is a real basic satisfaction in cooking over a camp fire. We have no pots or pans due to the weight of our other bits and pieces, we have two tin cups which are great for herb tea or making guacamole in and of course foil is good for cooking also. We begin to feel the sandy, dusty fingers of the desert entering our pores, our hair, our clothes and tent and we don't mind one bit, it feels good.



Cataviña, with its stunning beautiful desert and magical arroyo is a place that we are happy grateful to meet again and we are humbly grateful to the majestic arroyo which kept us safe and sheltered for the night, undisturbed by human, animal or bandito. I couldn't help feeling that if we had poked our heads outside of the tent at some bewitched hour of the night, we may, just for a second, have seen the guardian, sacred spirits ofthe Cochimis people standing on the giant boulders, looking down at us, knowing who we were, where we were going and a whole lot of other stuff that we have yet to discover for ourselves.

The Journey Begins

.

We have landed! The first part of our journey was spent wandering around Los Angeles,picking up all the stuff we need
to take on our trip.

We stayed in a little hostel called the Banana Bungalow on Melrose Avenue.

A big shout out to the cool and ultra friendly kids who came up to us and chatted on the L.A. Metro buses. Makes the trip
sweeter when you share a little love : )

L.A. is a scream.A wide open mouth with bleached white fangs and neon lipstick but we love it all the same!

Feb 26th Ensenada

We took the Greyhound bus to Tijuana Central Bus Station, where we hopped on to an ABC bus to Ensenada, a cool little city surrounded by lights in the rolling hills and full of life and activity. We spent the night in our groovy little tent, in a campsite which is located right next to a discotheque so we slept to the thumping and grinding beats of the local mayhem. Cool.

Feb 27th San Quintin Rojo and Dina pick us up!

The early morning of Ensenada saw us packing up our gear and heading out to the local Pemex (gas station)to hitchike our way to the town of San Quintin, a few hours south of Ensenada.
We were accosted by a rather drunk but friendly Fernando who kindly advised us that we were never gonna get picked up from this gas station and we would be better off taking a bus to the small town of Zorillo and hitching from there.
He was right. We took the local bus and jumped off at the sweet little town of Zorillo, we made our sign for San Quintin with a piece of card we found on the street.

About half an hour later, two cool kids pull over and tell us to jump in the back of their van.

We get talking and they introduce themselves as Rojo and Dina, they tell us they're headed to San Quintin to see Rojo's dad Bill and invite us to go along and spend a day or two hanging out with them on the beach.

Well, we knew then that our journey had truly begun....

Something you gotta realize about travelling our way, is that
it's all about the kindness of strangers and the beauty of souls who know that really there are no strangers, only friends you haven't met yet. The truth so often eludes us in these insecure and fearful times but I guarantee that the journey only begins when someone pulls over and asks you to jump aboard.

So, we get to the beautiful Playa De Oro (Beach of Gold), where Rojo's dad, Bill cordially invites us in to his home for a few cold beers and some really amazing insightful conversation. . . .

Stories from the Beach of Gold (playa de Oro)

Rojo's dad, Bill, is one hell of a guy.



You get a feeling when you´re in the company of someone like Bill, a really good feeling, hard to explain but you can just sit and bathe in the sunshine of their light and listen to the endless stories and enjoy the lessons within them. As soon as we arrived, the beers were unveiled and the stories began.

Bill told us all about his time in London in the 1960's. He was flatbroke had somehow worked out that he could use his American cents in the slot machines in London ! Well, he got to thinking that if he started playing the slot machines (or one armed bandits, as my nan calls them !) in the vast multitude of pubs and bars in the city, he could make a tidy profit. The English penny was worth seven U.S. cents in those days, so every time he won, he was making a killing! He survived for about two weeks in London, going from bar to bar, playing the slots until he won and then moving on to the next. His story ended with him sitting in one of the pubs after having won o their slot machine, sipping down a beer or two, when all of a sudden, he hears some English bloke cussing and cursing about ´´ The bloody American cents that were spewing from the slot machine!´´ Needless to say, Bill didn't say a word while the locals and landlord scratched their heads about the mystery of the London slot machine that spewed forth American cents rather than English pennies! Bill reckons that the best way to get to know a city, is to be broke there. That way you have no opportunity to avoid the gritty reality of that particular area, you have to learn the bus routes and find where the cheaper (which usually means friendlier in our experience) food and drink dives are located. It also means you have to sometimes have faith in the openhand of those in the know. Hopefully you find some slot machines and don't stay broke too long though : )



We slept in a little building in the garden, it's not finished yet but every time Rojo goes to visit his dad, they work together on the house and man do they work fast! In the four or five days we stayed with them, a flight of stairs and a new room frame were added to the existing work in progress. Bill is a mason and has taught his son, Rojo (also named Bill), the importance and intricacies of good building technique. There is an honesty and understanding in their building work that ensures that everything that they put their hands and minds to, will work out just fine and stay that way too.The day starts with sunrise and a simple breakfast of fruit and cereal orgrits (an American cornmeal porridge) and eggs with coffee (I´m allergic to coffee though, so we drank herb tea).



Everyone will tell a couple of stories about the places they've been to or some crazy but beautiful guy or girl they know and then the work starts.I played my guitar whilst everyone else worked and my contribution to the pack was of the dish washing sort, best leave me out of any kind of building work, lest you want an igloo for your home!Rojo's friend, Dina worked hard though, she's a fire ball of energy and light and a girl who knows how to work hard, love hard and party hard forsure, when the work ended each day, she woud be smiling like a pretty,Cheshire cat and ready for the Happy Hour at the local bar.



The little bar is a few minutes walk from Bill's place and is a hive of activity for the tiny beach community. Everyone refers to Happy Hour as just 'Happy'. They´ll say things like, '' we're goin´ over to Happy", "We´ll see you at Happy´´, or "Oh God! We´ve missed Happy!"Happy hour occurs twice each day, from 5 o´clock 'til 6 o'clock and from 8 o´clock 'til 6 o'clock. There is often live music at the bar, which consists of a Mexican keyboardist and a Mexican sweet voiced singer. They play cover versions of tacky Western pop tunes (with Mexican lyrics) and also some Mexican favourites. The drinks are super cheap at Happy Hour, $1 a beer and we usually bumped into someone we knew from Playa De Oro.


(carl and Richard in bar)

After ´´Happy¨´, we would go back to Bill´s place for more stories and beer. ´Sometimes Bill´s neighbours, Denise and Skippy, or Carl would drop infor a beer and smokes and to share some laughter.Denise and Skippy are cool. We would drop in to their trailer for a while and Skippy would make us laugh with his huge zest for life and outrageous stories of his days as a part time stripper in Wyoming! They live a good outdoor life and love Rock 'n' Roll just like Bill and Rojo and infact all of our friends in Playa De Oro.The common pastime there, is listening to music on Instant Radio (Satelite Radio) and they like their music loud.Denise and Skippy love all kinds of music but when we were at their place, they would be playing all the cool stuff from the 70's, Neil Young and ELO. Skippy would crank up the volume a notch or two every now and then, just until the music was as much a part of the trailer as the little pictures that hang on the walls, or the shell trinkets that Denise and Skippy have hand crafted and placed around, until the music was embracing the whole vibe and you could just listen to it and just when you think that the volume is all the way up. . . Skippy cranks it up another notch or two for good measure!


(Skippy)

Carl is another of Bill's friends, a stone mason and hunter from Wyoming and a rare diamond for sure.He's so cool with his long hair and painfully sweet eyes. Carl was once in a rock 'n' roll band called Good puppy and his stories about that time had us rolling over man.Getting arrested at their own gig and shit, Carl is rock 'n' roll. He loses the thread of his stories from time to time and they'll be lost in the ether but when he finishes one, you can guarantee you'll be grinning from ear to ear man.

Story telling is a big part of any journey, listening to stories and finding a few of your own, it's the way we get to know one another, to find out about each of our thoughts and experieces in this world.

Sometimes they're good just to make someone laugh and other times, like when you're talking with Bill, they're more than that, they can teach you something you need to be reminded of, about the awe that we all share at the mystery that is life.We recorded a couple of new song ideas for the next record on our little mini disc in the little building we slept in,.


I have christened my new little guitar, El Niño.

On our last day at Playa De Oro, Rojo took us fr a drive in Bill's clapped out old blue pick up truck, along the beach.We chased the sunset and skipped the waves in that old thing and although it had no brakes, we felt perfectly safe in Rojo's capable hands. (a little bit like Further in Electric Kool Aid Acid Test) There is so much I could write about Rojo, he is one of the most adventurous souls you could wish to meet. Rojo embraces life with a knowing smile and rides its turbulent waves with a natural, raucous grace. Bill has passed on his gift for story telling to his son and it is fascinating and intriguing to hear of all his crazy pursuits, Indiana Jones, free and stoned is our Rojo,very cool.Within minutes of picking us up on the Mex 1, he had invited us to accompany he and his freind, Dina, to visit his dad, Bill and now when we look back on that warm sunny day, it seems perfectly natural, perfectly beautiful, that we should have met with Rojo and his dad, Bill, Dina and the warm and inspiring characters at Playa de Oro.



Gracias Amigo´s Bill, Rojo, Dina, Skippy, Denise, Carl, Mike and everyone else who made the journey begin......