That's My Story

ANCIENT (THROWING) IRON!

Originally published the week of Nov. 26, 2006 in Western Outdoor News

I love pirate stories. Can’t get enough of them and the history of the Baja Peninsula is interwoven with tales of rogues, vagabundos and sea wolves. Many would say it still is!

Not all of them sailed under the proverbial “Jolly Roger,” but were actually supported by powerful countries, especially during the colonial periods when sails and cannon ruled the seas during the 15th-18th centuries. Spain, England, Portugal and others nations had their regular navy, but they also had their “privateers.” Essentially, these were private mercenary ships who sold their services to a particular country. But, make no mistake, they were pirates. However, under contract, they promised to only attack ships of opposing nations.

It was difficult to control piracy in those days so rather than eliminate them, the safest and most economic thing to do was to hire these scalliwags; let them attack someone else; then ask them to share a bit of the booty! A win-win for everyone. Shades of Captain Jack Sparrow and Johnny Depp.

Of course, if a marauder was on your side, he was a “courageous captain.” If you were a victim, you were labeled a “murderous pirate.” Where we live in La Paz, the bay was a natural haven for pirate activity.

We have an afternoon breeze in La Paz that comes up like clockwork and usually blows offshore. It’s so regular, it’s called the “Corumuel wind. (KOR-uhm-wel)” As the story goes, the Spanish would load up their big galleons with Baja’s new world treasures such as pearls, gold and other things bound for Spain’s court. There was a “heroic” English sea captain named Cromwell, who would brilliantly wait until the Spanish did all the work gathering and loading up all the goodies.

Cromwell, in his smaller and faster English ships would attack the Spanish. He’d loot their booty (sounds kind of kinky) and using the afternoon winds he’s scoot. The Spanish could not catch the “villainous brigand” so the winds took the names of the (in)famous captain. The “Cromwell” winds became the “Corumuel winds” over time.

I hadn’t thought about that story until a few weeks ago. I was snorkeling in a warm secluded cove several weeks ago. I won’t tell you where it was. But, in the clear blue waters, triggerfish, puffers and trumpet fish darted by.

But amid the mottled sandy bottom, unusual “rocks” poked out. They were completely round and generally uniform. As I scanned the bottom, there were dozens of varying sizes. Pulling one free from the sand, the encrusted rock clearly wasn’t a rock. In fact, it was metal. I swam to the shore to examine it more carefully.

Despite the corrosion, what I was holding in my hand was a metal ball. I’d guess it weighed about 4 pounds and was completely round and either iron or lead. I tossed it back onto the sand and re-entered the water. For sure, the shallow bottom was covered with them. Stones and rocks aren’t all the same size and neither are they uniformly round! Some were larger than others, but I would guess that there were some that were smaller 4 pounders and others were perhaps 6 or 8 pounders.

Cannonballs? Ballast? Gives a whole new meaning to “throwing iron” if these were indeed old munitions from a wooden ship of old.

Stand on the waterfront in La Paz some summer afternoon about 4 p.m. As the cars whiz by behind you and the sounds of mariachis waft up from the fronts of storefronts selling timeshares, the winds will come up from nowhere. That’s the Corumuel wind you feel cooling down the city. Like clockwork. Just a fable or the same winds that pushed the English out of reach of the Spanish guns? Only the Spanish ghosts know for sure!

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com