That's My Story

When you make your living at the whims of nature you're paid to produce every day. You can't have bad days. You can't phone it in because you have sniffles or a papercut or because your biorhythms are off. You have to run faster, fish harder, carry more, shoot faster, stand taller and still have enough energy to fix a boat motor with a bobby pin or cook a gourmet meal in a blizzard. And keep on smiling!

BADASS AS WE EVER WERE – The Spirit of the Wild

Originally Published in Western Outdoor News the Week of Feb. 24, 2011

            Y’know, we hear alot about how tough it was in the old days and dangit, there’s no doubt our forefathers were a tough bunch of grizzly so-and-sos.  Jill and I are on our Tailhunter Road Tour 2011 visiting all the west coast fishing/hunting shows.  In 6 weeks, we’ve been in Nevada, Wyoming, Utah, Denver, Montana, Washington, Oregon, Idaho, California…some states more than once.

            We broke down in the frigid snows of Utah and the tow-truck driver told us of his grandfather who was sent by Brigham Young himself from Salt Lake to set up a Mormon settlement in Beaver, Utah.  They walked!

            They built the town assembly hall as the first order.  But, just before the snows, it burned down.  Great grand-dad and the assembly went back up in to the treelines in the mountains to chop more trees before the snows arrived.  Granddad cut..no HACKS  his leg with his axe!

            Badass bastard.  He sewed up his leg himself and cauterized it!    He then  continued to cut wood and then they hauled it by rope down the mountain and got their building done just as the snowflakes and sub-zero weather set in.  No Kaiser Hospital.  No Home Depot.  Just grit and guts.

            And here we are in the 21st Century.  We have special shoes for trekking and pilates.   We have special vitamin water so we don’t get de-hydrated…to grow brain cells…to jump higher…I can’t keep up with all the varieties. 

            There’s special jockstraps to jog and heaven forbid we don’t have our mp3  players strapped somewhere on our torso and personal trainers to count our jumping jacks for us. A paper cut?  Call in a sick day at work!

            But if you ever get to any of these hunting and fishing shows, take a close look at the men and women behind the booth selling these hunting and fishing trips.  Sure, they sell “luxury” trips to exotic locations like Namibia, the Arctic Circle, the Amazon and yes… Mexico.  You get treated like kings and queens. Crab and steak dinners. Martini happy hours. Even on mountain tops with pack mules or deserted beaches on Baja islands. 

            But take a look at the guys themselves. 

            If they have a lodge on a deserted lodge near the Artic Circle, how do you think they got all that timber up there?  How do they keep those generators running to keep hot showers and light bulbs on? If the stove breaks, they don’t just call the Sears repairman.

            If they can show city-boyz how to shoot a 10-foot-tall grizzly bear, they might be pretty good at shooting grizzly bears themselves. And that big skinning knife they carry strapped to their leg isn’t a Hollywood prop. Jeremiah Johnson and Jim Bowie still live.

            The outfitter who packs you up to the Andes Mountains or into New Zealand or into the Sierras.  He’s carrying his gear plus YOUR gear and he can walk further, run faster, shoot better, track better and still make a fire by rubbing two sticks together; and  build camp… while you’re still  struggling to uncork a bottle of merlot.  His wife who goes with you is probably even tougher than him and you put together..and she is probably handling all the accounting in the office too!

            The Baja guy…think about guys like the late Bobby Van Wormer or Luis Bulnes or  Chuy Valdez who literally honed empires out of the desert.  No roads.  No electrical.  100 degree heat.

            Shovels and hoes with wheelbarrows to move rocks.  Wood for construction? C’mon!   How many trees have you seen in Baja?   Ever tried to fill a swimming pool when there’s no water?  Neat trick.

             Men of iron. I heard a story of Bobby Van Wormer jumping off a wall and landing on a piece of metal re-bar that went clean through his leg.  He pulled it out himself and started ranting at whatever worker left it lying around. And kept right on working. And he was in his 70’s at the time!

            These genius guys were devising water systems, sewage, electrical systems, not to mention world-class fishing fleets out of nothing.  Most of us can’t paint a bedroom wall without 3 weeks of research and an instructional DVD.

            We had our booth across from one outfitter who specialized in hunting with muzzle loaders.  For those of you who don’t know…that’s Daniel Boone style.    It’s  Davy Crockett’s Old Betsy long rifle with some black powder, a little lead ball and sporting even bigger ones.  One shot… to drop moose, buffalo, lions, and charging rhinos.

            “What do you do if you miss or you don’t drop the animal with one shot?” I asked.

            “You run like hell and learn to re-load even faster!” he laughed.

Yea, laughed.  Climbing mountains.  Hunting your own food.  Exploring oceans.  Crossing snow fields.  Building in the wilderness.  They live for it. They revel in it.  It’s not for everyone. 

            But, check out the folks who come to these shows too.  Alot of ’em wear cowboy boots not as a fashion statement.  It’s work wear.  They’re scuffed with manure on them.

              They actually know how to ride and shoot and fish.  The fishermen and outdoorsmen have the craggly face of the sun and some dandy scars to go along with the stories.  Rough hands and strong handshakes…and that’s just the women!  God bless ’em they’re tough too!

            One of our clients came up to show us a picture of her with a mountain lion she had just shot that weekend.  “Wow…when did you go on a mountain lion hunt?” I queried.

            “I didn’t.  It was killing our sheep.  So, I grabbed my rifle and went into the trees and shot it.” she said matter-of-factly. 

            Not a big deal. Like killing a gopher.   Then she skinned it before her husband came home from work.  No country club weekend luncheon with the girls for her.  She killed a mountain lion.

            The Spirit of the Wild still exists among us.  God bless, we’re  badass as we ever were.

__________________________________________________

Jonathan Roldan has been writing the Baja Column in Western Outdoor News since 2004.  Along with his wife, Jill, they own and run the Tailhunter International Fishing Fleet in La Paz, Baja, Mexico  http://www.tailhunter-international.com.  They also run their Tailhunter Restaurant Bar on the famous La Paz malecon waterfront.  If you’d like to contact him directly, his e-mail is riplipboy@tailhunter-international.com  or drop by the restaurant to say hi!            

Read Full Post »

Me and Joe posing in the FUBAR Cantina inside Tailhunters in La Paz

GIANTS AMONG US

Originally Published the Week of Feb. 4, 2011 in Western Outdoor News

               A few weeks ago before coming up to the states for the holidays I was in my office at the Tailhunter Restaurant in La Paz when I got a knock on the office door.  It was a guy about my age who very nicely asked,

          ” Hello.  Are you Jonathan Roldan?”

          I said sure. 

          “Would you mind meeting my dad.  He’s out here in the restaurant and we’re visiting in La Paz.  My dad is 92-years-old and he’d sure like to meet you. ”

          I followed him out to one of the tables where I was introduced to Joe.  Joe was a little frail, but it was clear he had been a big strapping man at one time. He shook my hand shakily but firmly.  His eyes still shone behind his wire glasses. 

          “I came all the way down here to meet you,” He smiled as he pumped my hand.  “I read Western Outdoors all the time and just wanted to tell you it’s an honor,” he said in a quiet sincere voice.

          It’s always flattering to know that folks read the column.  I eagerly I thanked him.. then noticed his black baseball hat. In big letters it said, “VETERAN WWII.” 

          It was my turn to swallow back and shake his hand enthusiastically. 

          “The honor is mine, Sir.  Thank you for your service.” I said reverently indicating to his hat.

          “Oh that…” his voice trailed off a bit as if he had forgotten he was wearing the hat.  “It was the Pacific.  A very long time ago.” 

          He looked down and away a bit breaking eye contact with me.

          “You’re welcome. No thank you needed.”  He said even more softly. 

          There was a momentary  pause.  He looked up as if he had just come back from someplace deep in thought…

          “May I take a picture with you?” he asked. 

          “It would be an honor to take a picture with YOU,”  I responded. 

          He shook my hand again.  I put my arm around his frail shoulders and someone snapped a picture.  History.

            As you read this, we are currently on our yearly “tour” of the Western U.S.  travelling each week…10 cities in 11 weeks… driving from one hunting and fishing show to the next hunting and fishing show.  While in our booth talking about fishing here in Baja, we see alot of veterans walking by us in the crowds.

            There are those with hats and patches from all branches of the U.S. armed forces.  Some from our most recent conflicts.  Others,  are older and grizzlier, more frail and fading from older actions. 

            There are those walking among the crowds of hunters and fishermen who wear no patches or emblems of their service, but I sense them in the crowd as well. We are all “outdoorsmen” at these shows, but among so many of these veterans, there’s a certain spirit that stands out and seems to bind them…even as they see each other in the crowd.  A quiet nod.  A knowing look to each other.  Even  from those not wearing any outward indications.

           I hear a softly spoken “semper fi” between two guys who pass each other and say nothing more.  Two others stubble-faced gentlemen give each other a knuckle-bump and I hear one say “ooo-rah”.

            It’s a special club.  Among the other hundreds and even thousands of hunters and fishermen in the crowded halls, there is a certain reverence accorded the vets.

            Today at the show in Washington, I shook the brittle hand of a man who wore a small patch on his jacket that said, “Veteran WW 2, Ardenne, Battle of the Bulge”.  As he walked up to my booth, there were several other guys already talking to me. 

            They all stopped talking.  Each of them in turn shook his hand.  One said, “My father was there in the Ardenne Forrest too.” 

            The old soldier said quietly, “90,000 of us were there in the snow.  Alot of us didn’t come out. I’m surprised anyone remembers anymore.” 

            To a man, each patted him on the shoulder or back as he slowly walked down the aisle.   No one else said anything.  

            We’ve been living now in Mexico for almost 16 years and sometimes we miss the traditions of home in the U.S.  But we try not to forget.  Presidents Day is coming up when we celebrate the executive heroes of our country.  To many nothing more than…hooray for another 3-day-weekend!

            Well, from Baja, here’s a shout-out to regular every-day heroes who still walk among us daily. They never won an election. Or chopped a cherry tree or gave a historic speech.  They never even hit a home run or dunked a basketball.  But they are bigger heroes on a grander scaled.

            Thanks for your service and sacrifice that allow so many of us the freedoms like travelling and fishing in Baja..to enjoy the outdoors or take our families for a hot dog and beer at a fishing show…the freedom to write goofy columns about  fishing like this one.   We take so much of it for granted.  The honor is ours.  I hope we never forget.   

______________________

Jonathan Roldan has been writing the Baja column in Western Outdoor News since 2004.  He lives with his wife, Jill, in La Paz where they run the Tailhunter International Fishing Fleet  www.tailhunter-international.com  and also the Tailhunter Restaurant Bar on the historic La Paz waterfront.  If you’d like to get in touch with him directly, his e-mail is riplipboy@tailhunter-international.com or stop by the restaurant and say hi!

Read Full Post »