That's My Story

GREEN ANGELS OF THE BAJA – published Sept. 2005 – Western Outdoors Magazine Baja Backbeat

Where we live down here we have a unique fishery. Despite having a big ocean right in front of us here in La Paz Bay, we also shuttle anglers daily about 45 miles SE of the city to the beaches of Las Arenas. If you’re not used to it, the drive can be long, dusty and hot, but every fleet in town does it and most anglers really don’t mind it too much considering how good the fishing can be.

Well, the trip requires that we go over a set of fairly sizeable mini-mountains from the city and descend down onto the Arenas peninsula. It’s a pretty sight coming down the grade and seeing Cerralvo Island in the distance nestled into Ventana Bay that’s still 20 miles away when first seen. We coast down into the flatlands and down to the beach.

Well, “coast” implies there’s a downhill which conversely implies that at some point to come back to town there’s an “uphill” that must be dealt with. What is a nice morning “glide” down the cactus and mesquite covered grade becomes the “Nine Mile Hill” coming back…it’s the Mt. Suribachi of hills for all the vans laden with tired fishermen, full ice chests, and tons of gear trying to get back to La Paz in the mid-afternoon heat. And for the nice morning descent, it’s the afternoon climb where the mountain exacts is toll. Evidence is scattered along it’s shoulders…burned out chassis’…the rusted carcasses of vans and cars that never made that last climb up the mountain the local fleet drivers have called “the van killer.” The “Nine Mile Hill” devours vans and spits them out so often that the hill is approached with reverence. Air conditioners are turned off; windows opened; low gears are engaged; clients nodding off for the long ride home are warned that ,”We just need to make it to the top then it’s downhill all the way back home.” Climbing it is like the agonizing chug and click of the rollercoaster as it pulls it way to the top of that first big dip. Amaciated Mexican cattle on the side of the road, walk faster than the vans that have to climb back up that hill.

I have personally broken down so many times over the years on this hill that I don’t even panic anymore. It can be pretty desolate on those slopes with nary a vehicle passing by to flag down and the nearest town at least 10 miles away. In the last 2 weeks alone, I’ve seen 6 vans go down, “sacrifices” to the appetite of the mountain monster.

I’ve seen some folks get pretty freaked out getting stuck in the Mexican desert. But that’s where the Green Angels come in. Driving up and down the Mexican highways, these solo drivers can be lifesavers. Provided free of service by the government, the Green Angeles jockey small utility trucks similar to what you’d see the paramedics use in your town. There’s a special relief you get when one of these green trucks pulls up next to your disabled sled.

On several occasions, I’ve been fortunate to get “visited” by one of these guys. I’m not sure they necessarily have a lot of mechanical ability…at least not that I’ve seen, but they know enough. Moreso, they carry stuff you need and wish you had brought: basic tools, duct tape, rope, water, gas, jumper cables, some engine belts, a phone, a shovel…even toilet paper which can sometimes be the most needed emergency necessity of all. They may not always get your vehicle underway, but it’s comforting to see the man in the uniform step out with a smile asking, “Puedo ayudarte?” (Can I help you?)

For the second time in as many weeks, the van I was driving busted a belt on the long climb up the monster hill. Two passing motorists stopped to assist and couldn’t do much. But they stuck around. Then, the Green Angel showed up. He wasn’t able to do much, but it was good to have him there and he radioed for a tow vehicle. We now had 4 vehicles and about 10 people hanging out and things were taking on a festive mood. We had beers in one of fisherman’s ice chests. Someone else had some bags of chips and one of the original vehicles had some barbecued goatmeat. The makings of a party were brewing. Might was well. No one was going anywhere.

The tow vehicle showed up. They couldn’t do much either so they attempted to tow my van up the hill. They overheated within 200 yards of where I had gone down. Another vehicle came up and tried to tow the tow vehicle. It too went down. The mountain was having a vehicular bacchanalian feast! So, now, there were 6 vehicles stopped roadside of which 3 weren’t going anywhere soon. We eventually got off the mountain, but spent a good 2 hours with our mini-fiesta as the beer, chips and goat meat fueled the levity. At this point, the Green Angel came over to me and smilingly joked, “I know everytime you break down on this hill, I can never fix your vans, but you always have great parties on the side of the road. Next time I will bring the tortillas!”

Andale! Like the Lone Ranger of the highway, the Green Angels ride to the rescue where a little humor always goes a long way, even in the middle of the Mexican desert.

That’s my story…
Jonathan