Pictures of the Delagada

In the course of unfolding events, us passing by Loreto with Chayo and Maria and lovely four-year-old daughter Mari, we check in with Sr. Yee to see if, per chance, those demandas were ready for signing. This is only like three days after initiating these things. I didn't think that they'd be ready yet, but, what the heck, we were passin' by.

No, they weren't in that condition yet. But Yee assures me that they're in the works. Next time we hit town they'd be ready for sure. He tells me that I've got a meeting scheduled with the Presidente on the following Tuesday, 12 noon. It was Saturday, meaning we'd have to beat our ways back to town again all too soon. Our rancho time was getting chewed into smaller and smaller pieces with all "save the rancho" jazz.

Us five, along with our youngest dog, Puppy, were out on a shell business junket. We were headed to a small pueblo north, between Mulege and Santa Rosalia: supposedly to meet up with 18 metric tons of #1 spiny oysters. If such was true, we simply had to see for ourselves. (Not hardly. But that's another story.)

The six of us had a good time with a camp-out on the south end of Conception Bay where we harvested lots of small white clams that were simply delicious in clam tacos the next A.M. This was their very first family camp out. They loved their new, spacious dome tent.

All that weekend I spent a lot of time thinking of what my moves should be, with regards to this Tuesday meeting. Certainly I wanted to be well armed, prepared. On way back to rancho, us comin' down the Agua Verde road, I asked Chayo if he could arrange for the Delagada from Agua Verde to arrive at San Cosme next morning, Monday. He assured me he'd do all he could do to get the job done. Nine A.M. was time frame we'd shoot for.

I'm revved up and ready to go and fetch Delagada at appointed time. With pickup I cruise by Saul's monstrosity, his crew of workers busily welding this structure together. Saul seems in great haste to move this thing forward. Good. I was glad they were working.

The tide's not sufficiently out so, me not wanting to expose Marcia's truck to another salt water bath, I pull it up to waters edge, park it and lock up the cab. I walk across in some places encountering waves knee deep. "Damn," I'm thinkin'. "Why did I tell Chayo 9 A.M.?" I hoped the Delagada was a lady with patience.

I'm a half our early and I have time to mooch a plate of food there at Guadalupe's kitchen. There's time to talk to the stone mason who's building Guadalupe's "new" kitchen. Hand mixed mortar and hand split rocks for the foundation, of course. Poco a poco. Seems like the work's not really moving but the next time ya come back yer surprised at how far things have advanced.

Just about on time, maybe only 15 minutes late, Justo wheeling Alejo's Toyota, pulls in with the Delagada. That tide line hasn't receded sufficiently, but it was going out. I apologize for my stupidity in regards to this but the Delagada assures me she's in no hurry, she's got the whole day. Obviously she seemed glad to be out and about with the chance to gab in that kitchen with assorted other females who were, in their normal mode, moving in and out of area. Maria, Ester, Guadalupe, Andrea, there were lots from family there about.

I kept checking the tide line about every 20 minutes. It's maddening how slow it seems to creep out when anxiety gets involved. After several trips from kitchen area to where remains of my old palapa still set, I figured I'd walk back to where truck was resting. I'd chew up a bit more time doing that; get a good feel for just how the water was. In as leisurely a walk as was, for me right then, possible...maybe I dawdled away a solid ten minutes. Rats! The indications were that I'd have to wait at least a half-hour more. I'd beach comb. I'd do parts of my A.M. exercise routine that I'd skipped to be at San Cosme early.

The minutes dragged by. Seemingly it took half-hour for ten of 'em to slide past. Give it 15 minutes more, I coached myself. Before that was up I was bouncin' through more salt water than I really wanted to.

I don't force the Delagada to break kitchen gab feast. No. Whenever she was ready, I was. And she didn't simply jump up, either. Maybe ten minutes passed before she made her break. She'd made an effort to get dressed up nice, seeing that this was official business. Kiddingly I asked her if she was able to walk three ks to get to what I had to show her and without hesitation she said she could. I think she meant it. I told her I was only spoofin'.

I open passenger side door for her, help her up into this higher vehicle than she's used to. Martin and Justo who are helping on new kitchen project are shouting jokes at the Delagada about her having to watch me. Some of the females in the kitchen shout out that it was me that had to watch out. We pull out of that area, everybody laughing.

Antonia is this lady's name. She's never been just around the corner and over low-tide-only pass. By now the water had receded to where just tire bottoms would get wet. As we bounced around cliff face in the middle of the bend of this pass...I paid close attention to Antonia's reaction when she got first glimpse of Saul's erection. There was this audible noise as she put her hand up to her mouth. Like maybe she wasn't expecting anything like what she saw before her.

I pulled right up to the Y junction where Saul's new road meets historic one. I kill the engine, dismount and walk around to open door for my lady friend. Like a dignitary, you can bet that I was treating her. She gets out with pad and pencil in hand.

I point out the obvious to her: Saul's gating of old way, his construction of new. I line her up in strategic positioning and, with her permission, snap a photo. I point out Trojillo's tide zone fence, all the eco damage he'd done on wrong side of this. We walk up the old road and through gateway that was open because of that work crew busily welding things into place, me telling her that he's been keeping this closed off with chain and padlock that are visibly hanging on gatepost.

As we walk by that work crew one of Saul's brothers, an almost equally fat-bellied fella, drops what he's doing and comes to confront me, like I'm a trespasser there on that throughway. He slams on the breaks soon as he catches onto the lady with the note pad. Suddenly he's nice as pie. "This is just a personal thing between him and my brother," he utters, him trying to wash away all Saul's offensive moves with this lame explanation. The Delagada said she was just checking things out, she hinted at nothing more. This fat-bellied brother excused himself and went back with the others, who'd turned from workers to on-lookers.

I walked the Delagada to the second gate that Trojillo put across this historic road. It was normally closed and locked, I explained. Again the chain and lock were in evidence. I snapped another photo of Delagada standing next to this. These snap shots, which ya might a figured out by now, were for the Presidente when I meet with him the next day. I was hoping rapid development in Loreto would put the prints in my hand.

I point out to this lady the windmill that sets upon the illegal well, the pila that we knew to be on parcel #31. I describe to her Saul's pie-wedging of what he'd fenced in. She couldn't miss the evidence that just all kinds of things that once lived there had been hacked down, the burn piles still quite obvious.

We walk back to truck, her jotting on pad as she went. I assisted her again into the cab and we drove up the new road and past Saul's north fence. I was taking her to where that fence crossed the historic high-tide passage, the by- foot and animal trail. From as close as I could drive to I walked her up this trial, not far but tricky in the type foot wear the Delagada was struggling just a little bit with, to where five strands of barb wire stretch across path. Even though she'd been forewarned, this surprises her. "He didn't even put in a gate," she exclaimed. This offense set her into jotting on that pad again. She posed for me again without the slightest hesitation.

That part of the tour done, I asked her if she wanted to see the by then famous gate to El Carrizalito. She jumped at the chance to see the rancho, where, even though she'd lived in Agua Verde for 20 years, she'd never been before. Getting there I unlocked the chain, drove in, locked up behind me. I explained to her the reasoning and she indicated that she understood. She also understood that we had the right to lock it, the road terminating there within the rancho.

I gave her a deluxe tour, me pointing out all the obvious markers. Yes. She understood that this was Carrizalito. Her husband is a fisherman and he'd told her all about this. Preachin' to the choir, that's what I was doing.

When I offered to show her where we lived, all hidden back in the trees and bushes, she indicated she was up for that, too. We pulled up to yard gate with all the dogs barking, Marcia coming out to see what was up. The Delagada got an eye full at my shell-working workshop. It was easy to see that she really liked what I was showing her. I'm sure she'd never seen so many gems.

We sipped coffee and talked for a while here inside the trailer. We showed her things about our lives back in the States, which I'm sure she found quite different. To pictures of our cabin covered in fresh blanket of snow she shivered, couldn't figure out how under such conditions life could be possible.

On ride back to San Cosme she told me things about her mostly local background. As a kid she'd spent a lot of time around Timbabichi. "Did she know Epifano De La Toba?" I questioned.

"Si!" He was her cousin.

I told her how Epi was my foreman for my prairie plant business back in the woods, how we'd helped him get to the States, a story she got a kick out of. I told her what good luck we'd had with him, how highly we regarded him. This seemed to make her feel good.

We make our way back to Guadalupe's kitchen where I get the door for her the last time. We shake hands and thank each other for the experience. She acts like she's had a good time.

Email: david@dondavidonbaja.com