Baja Getaway – Part Four

With our newly welded Boler frame holding up well, we followed Mex 1 away from the coast towards the interior of the peninsula. Near Cataviña the flat desert suddenly sprouted a gigantic rock garden. A jumble of huge boulders, some bigger than cars, rose out of nowhere. Strewn about here and there, and in places piled on top of each other, these boulders didn’t seem to belong here. The same cactus-like vegetation grew in the sandy areas between the boulders, but the rocks lay grouped together, like a little town of rock houses. In a flat section surrounded by boulders, as if it were the town square of Rock City, we camped for the night with our traveling companions.

Photo courtesy of Gerald and Buff Corsi at California Academy of Sciences

“Circle the wagons,” one of the veteran campers said. “Everybody have your door facing into the middle of the circle. It’s safer that way.” There wasn’t a soul in sight so we weren’t worried, but we weren’t that far from the highway. It didn’t hurt to take precautions.

The temperature went down to near freezing that night as we were too far from the ocean to benefit from its balmy breezes. A brisk morning hike got our blood circulating again and we marveled at the life in the desert. Coyotes that had yipped and howled that night, slunk out of sight as daylight became stronger. Quail called back and forth, passing word from boulder to boulder, of strangers sighted—intentions unknown. Songbirds flitted here and there as the warming sun rose higher. Lizards of various sorts played hide-and-seek with chipmunks.

I would love to have sat on a boulder and watched the cool night desert come alive with the heat of the day. But we had some distance to go that day and on returning from our walk, we heard our friend call, “Mount up.” We were on our way to the next adventure.

For Hanna

My older sister, Hanna, died this week. She was the gentlest soul I know; kind to people, kind to animals – a very “giving” person. Hanna’s home was many miles outside Dawson Creek in a wooded area. She loved it there among the birds. She reminded me of Snow White. When I visited her I was amazed at the concert going on in her backyard.

I gazed up at the forest. “You sure have a lot of birds here. It’s like an orchestra.”

“Yeah,” she said with a humble smile, “one for every tree.”

In the space of only a few minutes, I noted many of the usual songbirds, but also red-winged blackbirds, an oriole, and three varieties of woodpeckers.  It makes sense that Hanna would feed the birds, being the caring person she was. I had brought her some little gifts, but although she accepted the face creams and fancy soaps graciously, I knew that the small gift I brought her the second day was much more to her liking. She ran for the scissors, took the bag of sunflower seeds from my hand, and filled her birdfeeders immediately. More than personal gifts for herself, the birdseed made her happy.

I wished that I could have had her visit me on Vancouver Island, but it was so far away. I would like to have taken her to the bird sanctuary near our house where the chickadees and nuthatches come to your hand if you hold out birdseed for them. I know she would have been thrilled.

In this blog, I’d like to tell about one of the visits to the bird sanctuary, and hope that somehow she can know that I wrote the following anecdote for her.

My in-laws were elderly, close to 90, when they came to visit us. My father-in-law was in poor health but my mother-in-law was, and still is, quite spry. In spite of the cool day we all felt a need to go for a walk before dinner. I filled a plastic bag with birdseed and drove them to the little bird park.

“Wait till you see how the birds will land right on your hand,” I told them. “It tickles a bit but it feels so wonderful.”

“But they won’t really land on our hands, will they?” my mother-in-law asked. “They don’t know us.”

“You’re kidding us, right?” my father-in-law said.
“No, you’ll see. I’ve done this before and they really do land on your hands—or your head, or your shoulders.”

“Will we have to walk far?” he asked.  “I can’t walk too far.”

“No, it’s not far.”

At the bird sanctuary, we walked along the trail that loops through the woods. Almost right away, we saw birds. I took out some birdseed and poured a bit into each of my in-laws’ hands. But wouldn’t you know it? This was the time the birds were going to make a liar out of me. They flitted here and there, but wouldn’t come to us.

“I know a place along the path where they’ll come for sure. It’s like a feeding station.”

“I’ll just wait here. You girls go on ahead. I can’t walk that fast or that far.”

“Okay… well…, don’t go anywhere. We won’t be long,” I said, and we two women walked briskly along the path to a bench where people sometimes sat to feed the birds. We were chatting quietly as we got out the birdseed. Suddenly, through the trees, I heard my father-in-law shout my name very loudly.

“Oh my God! I hope he hasn’t fallen down and hurt himself,” I said. “You take your time and I’ll run back to see if he’s okay.”

My lungs were on fire as I tore along the path.  If he had fallen down and broken his hip I’d never forgive myself for leaving him alone.

“Are you okay?” I panted as I came up to him.

“Oh yeah!” he said, “but look! Just a sec. Here they come again.” And he stood stock still with a delighted look on his face as the little birds tickled his fingers and picked the birdseed from his hands.