Meeting of the 15th

I'd guessed the tide wrong that early morning. There we were on the rancho side, waves diving against rock walls that we had to make our way around. This meeting was important. I didn't want to put Marcia's shinny machine through those waves...but there was no other way around. Marcia was nervous about this, let her feeling show it.

I can't actually see where the exact way is. Ken, who's been helping us in our "Save the Rancho Efforts," he's there in cab with us, him stating that his carro, in "no way!" could have accomplished what I was attempting. He stationed his at San Cosme the evening before. Chayo's riding back in box.

Wham! I slam into unmovable object. "Reverse! Put it in reverse!" Marcia sets inta screeching.

No shit.

Chayo is hollering at me to go to the right, harder up against cliff face. I follow his advice, which proves good, and poco a poco our tires make higher dry roadway. Whew!

We get to Guadalupe's kitchen. We're right on schedule. The mayor from Agua Verde has arrived just ahead of us, the small blue pickup that's her ride is parked up above the restaurante, people attached to it shouting things down to Guadalupe.

I want to reaffirm my offer to buy breakfast, even though I know that in stating this to her, all others in that assemblage will automatically be invited, too. I pick my way up the steep loose-rock slope to make immediate contact with the lady. We shake hands in greeting; we're not at the hugging stage...yet. I greet the other five passengers also: Her son, the driver, her daughter-in-law and their young, snot nosed son, them seated in small cab. Guadalupe's brother Sehparino and an attractive female perhaps in her late twenties (I'll learn that she's the Agua Verde kindergarten teacher), are ridin' in back.

The mayor is all dressed up. She's wearing a bright red sweater that looks really nice on her. I tell her how handsome, guapa, this looks on her and I can see she appreciates the compliment. Breakfast. Café Ole. She shakes her head in acceptance.

Ken and Chayo get all lined out in Ken's carro, we head up and out ahead of them. We're scheduled to stop at Ultima Agua, the casa of Raul Quijano. When Raul and family had shown at our place for shell working lessons I hit him up about comin' to this meeting with the Presidente. He'd declined, but only because of a previous hard commitment: His wife Juana had come up with the idea of him writing a letter of recommendation, to the Presidente, which he'd gladly conceded to. After greetings and small talk there Raul hands me sealed envelope addressed to Loreto's top man. I thank him warmly for this.

The rest of the ride to Loreto proceeds without a hitch. We arrive slightly early so I dash to attorney Yee's office just to check in. Back at Café Ole those with the mayor, Ken and Chayo and us reassemble. As I'd guessed, we'd be ten strong for breakfast. No really big deal 'cause not only is the food good there, prices are about the best in town. While we eat I have plenty of time to show the mayor documents that are filling my clipboard.

One is the agreement we'd made with the ejido, them stating that they would respect the location of Historic Carrizalito. This is a beauty of a document, stamped, sealed and with all the signatures or fingerprints of all ejido members. Too, I showed her copies of all the recent bad press I've been receiving. She seemed to catch the drift.

I show her other documents that spell out what Historic Carrizalito actually was. Separino stating that all reference points I clicked off were indeed Historic Carrizalito.

We've time to kill before appointment. Arranging to reunite with the Delagada (mayor) at the Municiple Palace at appointed time, Ken and Chayo follow us back to Sr. Yee's. Not expecting to find Payo all slicked up, I'm really glad with discovery that he's adding his weight, in the flesh. To he and Yee I go over some of the documentation I was hoping to display.

One recent aid I just gotten, belatedly delivered by Chayo, was a mouse-nibbled copy of a report filed by the Fish & Wildlife (PROFEPA) officer from Loreto, a guy by name of Rodrigo, last June. This had been generated because of a constant string of complaints made by those attacking me, the bad gringo, who does so many mean and nasty things. We'd been accused of blocking a roadway that went to the federal tide zone for lucrative purposes, we'd been accused of all kinds of wild and crazy things. This quite detailed report, an onsite and in-depth inspection, completely cleared us of all false accusations. At no point did the rancho road get any closer than 100 meters to that tide zone. And since it went to no place but to the rancho, we could legally lock a chain across it.

Payo drops the news that the Presidente ain't gonna make it. No. Without much notice he'd had to go to capital of LaPaz. Damn. I'm deflated some. Both he and Yee tell me not to worry because this thing is still going down, only with the Presidentes 1st Secretary. Oh, well...what the hell, this would be better than no meeting at all. I don't have much faith in talking to anyone but the top dog.

Times up. As a fortified assemblage we head off towards Municipal Palace, there to reunite with the Agua Verde Delagada. We all make our way up to second floor waiting area. I present that unopened letter from Raul. The receptionist says it'll be just a minute.

And it isn't long either before we're requested into the Presidente's office which doesn't have near enough chairs to accommodate those who are crowding in...which set off a search for more; this, instead, turning into a march off to a much bigger, less formal, meeting area. There's a long, wide wooden table with seating room for maybe 25. The 1st Secretary takes the place at the far end. Payo and I take opposing seats right there to the right and left of him. On Payo's side there's Chayo followed by Yee and then an inner - circle functionary with note pad in fourth chair. On my side are Marcia, then Ken, then another there from the Palace. Way down at far end the Delagada has positioned herself. Another gentleman, the Municipal legal expert or advisor moves a chair right up behind the 1st Secretary, just to his left and close to me. I kick things off by laying a copy of the last newspaper attack against me, me fessing up to bein' this ultra bad hombre. More er less, they get the joke.

The reasons that I'd wanted this meeting were many and varied. First, I wanted to get my mug well known in that center of power; my best protection, I figured. Also I wanted to present those there with some hard facts, documentation. Then down the list was my desire to chop away at my adversary Soul Trojillo as best as I could. I led off on my song and dance routine, Sr. Yee and Payo jumping in to throw in their perspectives and in much better Spanish.

None of what we were laying on officialdom there was coming at them with any great degree of surprise. Some of the details were new, sure. But all of them were hardened veterans of the Municipal of Loreto scene. The guy just behind the 1st Secretary stated rather dryly that along the coastline, all the way to Timbabichi, everything had been mixed and scrambled up.

I know that those there can't really do much of anything. The show looks good but you've got to understand it's more like "dog and pony." (Maybe, on both sides.) I pitch hard what development of Rancho Carrizalito shoreline would do to eco-tourism based there in city of Loreto, pretty much the only thing goin' down in this close to dead berg. I make point that Loreto hasn't a chance without this cash flow, that legal advisor settin' right there close to me accepting this as matter of fact. Sorta, it seemed, I was preaching to the choir.

The least I felt they could do was issue a stop order on the two construction projects that were moving forward on two illegitimate parcels: Trojillo's and Junitio's erections. Junito is a gringo who hangs around at Ensenada Blanca who's the audacity to begin building on what is Historic Carrizlaito, him understanding quite well that he's in this zone of high conflict and that his parcel's no damn good. (I've warned him but he continues on.) This they seemed compelled to do...of course, with the approval of the Presidente.

I hung out the idea that an immense stretch of coastline could be saved and united with the Marine Park, this using donated monies gathered together through an eco campaign directed by my good buddy Ken, a fella who I lauded praise upon for his abilities in orchestrating just such things. Millions and millions were within my modest friend's capacity. Of course, something would have to keep these areas from getting cluttered up. And something would have to be done about cleaning up land title mess.

They know all about this sensitive land title issue. They understand really well how this mess is blocking the flow of significant investment capital, gringos' fears of Mexican land deals.

Payo goes off on a tangent about how unjustly I'm being attacked by the ejido. He claims they're afraid of me because I'm not afraid of them and I know how to use my pen. Oh yeah. Me the great writer that I am. It just so happens that I've got copies of six of my stories that I've written about this fight that have been translated into Spanish. I hand 'em over to the 1st Secretary who snatches 'em up like he's hungry ta read all about this. I tell him of my web page. Later I give him my card.

The 1st Secretary asks the Delagada what her read on all this jazz is. She declared honestly that she hadn't had time to get to know the situation, her having never seen any of the physical evidence. This was something that I made a mental note to take care of.

Them stating that definitely there would be some form of action taken, we called it quits. No sense beating points to death. We thanked them and they thanked us and all filed out of room and down the stairs and out into the bright mid-day southern Baja sun. Ken asked me what I thought and I told him honestly that I didn't think much had been accomplished. Later at Yee's office I asked him if he thought they were going to stop those constructions and he gave a cautious, "Si."

Email: david@dondavidonbaja.com