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<DIV><BR>Brother Paul tells me I have not posted this to the new
address<BR>correctly (I thought I did!) so here goes. This went out
through<BR>the Yahoo pipeline last week, and I know it got to the Tree as
I've<BR>received mail regarding it since, though some have told me they<BR>only
got half, which like half an avocado and peanut butter and<BR>anchovie sandwich
ain't anywhere as good as a whole one!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>At any rate, here it is again, half today, half tomorrow. .
.with<BR>appologies for any duplication.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>
-0-0-0-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV><BR>Hi Banyanaroonies!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Hey! I'm back! Marched into Denver about a week ago, and kinda<BR>hoped
they'd set up a ticker-tape parade or something like it to<BR>celebrate my
return. They did even better. They held a blizzard!<BR>The biggest, most
snow-laden, most vicious since 1913! Better<BR>than nothing, I guess; and I do
love weather, but this was<BR>ridicules!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Naturally I've been writing every chance I've had. Below is some<BR>of the
latest verbiage along with all of my love and kisses.<BR>Sorry I've had to be
gone so much but things have been a little<BR>crazy lately and there's lots to
do elsewhere.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>So, John in Wales and Emu-Paul and Cecil and Tom, Tobie and Tabby; </DIV>
<DIV>Jan and Rosie, Nancy Lee and Red Pepper and Peter Down Under; </DIV>
<DIV>even Pecan Papa wherever you are, and a whole bunch of Tree </DIV>
<DIV>People I'm trying hard to remember and name's of (it's probably a </DIV>
<DIV>good thing I'm not accepting an Oscar tonight!), this story's for
you!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>
MartyV</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>
ONE OF THE BEST MEALS I'VE EVER HAD!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV><BR> There's a highway that runs the length of the
Baja along the</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>far western side of Mexico, the desolate though often tropical</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>promontory which lies directly across the Bay of California from</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>the mainland. It extends from the U.S. border at the North end, </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>all the way to the "Cabo"; the Cape of St. Lucas, where the tip</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>of the peninsula meets the Pacific Ocean on one side and The Sea </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Of Cortez on the other.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> Along this highway, the "Camino del Pacifico", at
regular 30</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>kilometer intervals, an innovative and forward-thinking hotel</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>chain of Mexican/American ownership has erected a series of</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>comfortable inns catering to the weary "tourista"; beckoning them</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>to relax and enjoy and make these wonderful retreats his/her Baja</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>headquarters, if only for a day or two. Each presents a worthy</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>example of what hospitality is supposed to be.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> One of them, a beautifully laid-out oasis in the
desert beside </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>the roadway about half way down the isthmus was doing just</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>exactly that to me when I had this particular adventure.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> I had just wrapped eight weeks of editing sound on
an espec-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>ially exhausting TV film project which had four sponsors behind</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>it, each conceiving the assembly-end of motion picture prod-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>uction as an exuberant exercise in high-level anxiety and pan-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>demonium. Now, exhausted, I was really looking forward to a</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>couple of weeks of uncomplicated vacation. I hadn't even brought</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>a friend along; I often run at my best when alone.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> Being a rather talented amateur photo-bug (well,
at least I</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>think so!) I was requiring a bit more image in my viewfinder than</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>the progress of shifting sand and the variety of cactus here at</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>my inland bivouac, picturesque as it may have been. Therefore,</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>earlier that afternoon I'd requested authorization from the hotel</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>front desk to borrow one of the many multi-colored dune buggies</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>lined up outside their main entrance for the convenience of the</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>sport fishermen who were their principal patrons that time of</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>year. </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> Were one to stand directly in front of the hotel,
one could</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>easily observe the "Highway of the Pacific" looping off in u:e6</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>another, entirely different direction as it crossed the main</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>entrance. Then, observing a little closer, the visiting tender-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>foot would become aware of an extraordinary hodge-podge of dirt</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>trails shooting off to at least a couple dozen different compass</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>points; a seemingly mindless pattern of primitive paths which, I</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>trusted, had led to various destinations of import to somebody or</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>other over the years. . .but to whom I wasn't to find out until</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>later that evening.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> In Mexico, along the West Coastline, a strange and
un-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>expected phenomenon occurs almost every evening of the clear and</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>hot months. Simply, there is almost no twilight. The day is</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>bright and warm, then there's a few minutes when the sun is</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>either halfway down on the horizon, or half above it, and then</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>WHAM!, everything goes black all at once and a cold, direction-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>less night is upon you and you'd better be ready!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> The instruction course to operate the little buggy
was not</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>really very extensive. Mainly a directive not to drive into</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>ditches, pot holes or off a cliff, culminating with a cursory</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>lesson on how to operate the 2-way radio each of these little</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>motorized wagons have stashed under their dashboards.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> These were all tuned to the frequency of the hotel
base</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>station, and only to be activated in case I committed the</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>greatest misstep of all and found myself out on the trails at</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>night. To counter this possibility, I was directed to start back</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>to "la Fonda", the Inn, while the sun was still at least two</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>fingers above the horizon. Three would be even better.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> If I screwed up and at the same time was
incredibly for- </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>tunate, they would be able to successfully dispatch a specially</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>designed Toyota SUV sporting a couple of twenty-million candle- </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>power searchlights mounted on the front-structure above the</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>driver. Perhaps if the ancient Aztec spirits rumored to be</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>lurking about, decided that I was a good guy and that they liked</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>me, I would be found and led back to civilization. A big "per-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>haps" in view of the fact that more than one guest had been</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>forced to spend the night huddled in their dune buggy wrapped in</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>a thin blanket (found under the seat) and being serenaded by what</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>seemed like an army of coyotes in the surrounding darkness being</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>either furiously romantic or more likely, seriously hungry. I</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>thought better than to ask if any of my fellow travelers were</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>still out there awaiting rescue.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> Off I went.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> I wanted to get a better look at this part of the
coastline</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>with its monolithic boulders and ear-splitting waves crashing in</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>upon them, sometimes hurling forty feet into the sky! The beach</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>lay only about two thousand meters to the west of the hotel but</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>the terrain always kept it well hidden behind its high, sandy</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>parameters, though one could easily smell the salt and taste it's</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>tang in the wind whenever it was gusting from a seaward dir-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>ection.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> I planned a refreshing swim (hopefully there would
be little</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>or no undertow this day), then to take about a thousand pictures,</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>maybe a million! After that I looked forward with shameless lust</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>toward returning to the hotel and assuaging the rampant appetite</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I'd have been generating all afternoon on one of their giant</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Northern Mexican-Pacific lobsters; "la especialidad de la casa".</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I didn't know it right then, however, but that night I was going </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>to do even better in the gastronomic department. Better than I'd</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>ever imagined! </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> Yeah. Of course you guessed it. I went all the way
and man-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>aged to get myself lost in the darkness! The Whales were coming</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>up from Scannon bay at Guerrero Negro a few miles to the south</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>where they go every Spring to do whale things and conceive their</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>babies in the warm waters before returning to the icy Alaskan</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>seas of the north.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> Cetaceanic gestation requires about a year, so
they make a</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>reappearance to deliver their progeny in those same genial</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Mexican waters the following Summer. A large pod traveling in</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>either direction at worthy speed, blowing enormous spumes of</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>water as they paraded by, was a majestic thing to behold. I guess</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I beheld a mite longer than was prudent!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> It was so dark that were it not for the
little buggy's</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>headlights skittering along before me I would have been totally</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>inoperative; I literally couldn't see two feet when they were</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>turned off and there were no reference points available at all</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>until I recognized the north star and worked from there.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> It was at that exact moment, that wondrous instant
when I</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>looked up and totally free from city-shine or reflection of any</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>kind, gazed upon those millions upon millions of stars that it</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>hit and registered. I realized that this very small individual</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>(me) was in fact not really alone at all, for I was peering</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>directly into the fiery face of God Himself, and it was one of</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>the few remembered times in my life that I'd been afforded an</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>emotional impression that literally took my breath from me!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> Reluctantly I finally lowered my eyes to the
horizon, and</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>there, in very little time, decided to cease my fruitless u:e6</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>searching for the hotel lights where I was hoping to bravely show</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>up under my own steam and sit at the bar following my lobster </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>feast, reminding a world of uplifted, worshiping fellow Gringo</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>faces that a true adventurer is always aware of where he is and</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>what he is doing every moment he is out there in the cold. By</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>gollies, I'd be a pretty poor example of a Seasoned International</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Traveler otherwise, wouldn't I? They would applaude wildly, and</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>buy me lots of drinks!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> Finally, with no other option, I broke down and
extracted</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>the radio, holding it beneath the weak dashboard lamp provided.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I quickly discovered that when the on/off switch was flipped</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>nothing happened. Nada! Sin todo pago! A World-Class Bummer!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> I opened the battery door. The spider who had
taken up</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>residence in the empty compartment peeked out at me. . . then, as</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I obviously was bearing no edible offerings, he closed his little</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>red eyes again, sighed, and if arachnids yawn, I swear that's</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>exactly what he did as he nestled himself back into slumber.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Not wishing to further disturb, I closed the portal quietly</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>leaving him to his rest. I'm a thoughtful guy.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> There were others around here who were not so
thoughtful, I</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>was thinking! Obviously somebody had wanted to operate a fan, a</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>portable radio or a vibrator out here in the hinterlands and had</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>purloined MY batteries to do it! I hated that "someone!" I hated</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>that "someone" VERY MUCH! I prepared to spend the night!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> The blanket was there right where they said it
would be so I</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>wrapped up and considered myself blessed that there was little</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>night wind to cut the temperature even more. I gazed upward again</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>and started looking for satellites.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> I knew by this point in time that there were
supposed to be </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>hundreds of them up there, but on this particular night a pretty</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>scanty selection was presented. Indeed!. . .Well, maybe I just </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>wasn't looking in the right directions at the right time or</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>something.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> Eventually, mainly out of boredom, I got out on
the sand and</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>scanned the horizon. Every quadrant was identical to the pre-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>ceding one. There wasn't even a hint of man-made light or any-</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>thing else that said "humanity" or "hotel" or "Hoo-HAA"!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> My stomach made a very rude sound. It was deeply
concerned</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>that it might never again taste anything. Siempre un vientre</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>vacio! An empty belly forever! ARRRGGGHHH!!!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> I wasn't scared necessarily, though a couple of
times I know</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I heard something moving around out there in the dark (not</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>licking its lips, I passionately trusted). My most prominent</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>emotion was one of just being very pissed off. I was fervently</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>wishing that the peon who stole my batteries might accidentally</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>touch the wrong wire on his or her cocktail mixer or whatever,</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>preferably while sitting in a full bath tub, and. . .</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> WHAAAAAA! What was that?</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> A reflection against the seaborn sky, now black as
mud</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>again. My eyes or mind or something was getting adventurous and</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>playing tricks!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> THERE! ANOTHER! IT HAPPENED AGAIN! Dammit, that
was NO</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>delusion! A flicker ricocheting off a low cloud, maybe! This was</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>very real! A huge, spastic, super-quick flashlight splashing</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>across bushes and rocks and. . .and everything but me!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> I quickly swung back inside my noble steed, and
cranking up</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>its sewing machine engine began inching along the nearest path in</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>the direction of the beach from whence the reflection seemed to </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>originate. I was hoping against hope that it might be that</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>searchlight-equipped utility vehicle dispatched with me in mind.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> The sun had been completely down for well over an
hour now</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>and, I mean after all, it IS kind of embarrassing as well as</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>lousy public relations to misplace a paying guest; even a dummy</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>who failed to check his batteries before he took off!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> I observed the phantom reflection intermittently
as I</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>approached the final dune that separated me from the ocean. The</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>reflection behind it was now pretty steady against the incoming</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>fog.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> What the hell was it?</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV><BR>
END OF PART ONE - PART TWO TOMORROW<BR></FONT></DIV></BODY></HTML>