When I was in high school I used to bus tables in a restaurant with a gregarious waiter named Gordon, an ex-wrestler with a New York accent. He always stoked up the guests with his outrageous humor and antics. If I happened to be passing by at the right time, he would make some off-hand comment about the “surfer boy” and pull me aside as a prop for his routine. “Do you realize this guy is a world-class champion surfer? Look at him!” I guess there was something to it because most of the time people believed him and started asking questions. I would shake my head, smile politely and suddenly find myself needed elsewhere on the floor. I always liked working with Gordon, there were lots of laughs and lots of tips.

But there was something to the whole surfer notion. It’s just one of those things I’ve always wanted to do. Naturally, I got fired up while talking to my friend Robb about this trip and the potential surfing opportunities, when he offered to loan me one of his boards. Yes! It would be come a reality.  Make it so.

Robb was kind enough to loan me not just a board, but the leash for it and a full wetsuit with a rash guard. Board happily mounted to the rack on my Toyota, smile firmly plastered across my face, we both crossed the border into Baja together, destined to become good friends. That was a month ago. I figured I might not get on that surfboard until I got to Central America where I’ve been told it’s a great place to learn with soft sand bottoms and warm water. But like most plans on this trip, that was definitely subject to change.

After departing Ensenada Alcatraz on the Cortez side of the peninsula, I headed over to the central coast of the Pacific to meet friends Jack, Debbie and Linda. Jack has some property there and it was my first visit. Little did I know that his property sits right at what could possibly be the best place in Baja for learning to surf. My anticipated four day stay lasted instead for eleven. But I only surfed two days. The first few days were spent waiting for my friends to arrive. The next few were spent watching experienced surfers who had come down to ride big swells. I studied a lot. I befriended an accomplished surfer named George who lives there most of the year. He was an inspirational guy and happy to offer me some great tips and advice.

The big swells came and went, and so did the crowd. Some days the weather wasn’t good or the water wasn’t right. But then the perfect day came. This was it. As I floundered about in the break, I watched George sail past me over and over… his board like a dance floor that he set upon with flair. He was perfectly free…smiling ear-to-ear. He was doing the circuit. He’d ride a breaking wave from way out by the point all the way in to shore, hoist the board into the air, and walk/run along the beach and then the rocks, wading and paddling back out to the point. “You want to ride a wave every 15 minutes” he told me. I’m not really riding waves yet, so to speak, but I can stand up and coast a bit. I’ll get the hang of it.

Surfing was only a part of my eleven-day camp session. Jack took me out on a tour of some local 4wd desert trails to see some sites. We also played a lot of what I have come to think of as my absolute favorite remote campsite game, ever (yes, better than poker): All-terrain bocce ball. Jack, Linda, and I would set out on the beach or the mesas, or in the dunes… you name it, and come up with some pretty amazing plays. I added a little atmosphere by hanging a couple Goal Zero “Rock Out” speakers from my belt with the iPod strapped in for the ride, playing endless tunes for the game. I helped do some rock moving and wall building. I learned how a mud oven is built out of local, natural materials (and saw some great pizza coming out of it). There were lots of things to do and 11 days went by pretty fast.

Many thanks to Jack, Debbie and Linda for the fantastic hospitality and good times.

Christmas week and New Years was spent camped at Ensenada Alcatraz.  I have a solar panel for the truck now, and I have to say it has made a big difference.  Along with the Oz Tent it makes the beach bungalow setup just downright comfy. Two weeks at a shot is definitely possible (water and food being the potential limitation), which isn’t bad for a little Toyota truck.

A Happy New Year to all.  Let’s have fun with it!

We love you, Ganai.

Let the adventure begin: Rippin' up the dance floor at the Raven

Hint: If you decide to watch in “full-screen” mode, please deselect the “embiggen” option in the upper-right corner or it will pixelate the images.

Gunfight on Whiskey Row

My friend Dennis Gallagher first told me about the event a couple of months ago and explained their intention to make this a high-caliber celebration of Arizona history, bringing together the largest gathering of reenactment organizations in the state. It sounded like a pretty tall order to me, but the idea of having all of these talented groups together in one town for one big event seemed like a perfect thing for Prescott. I’m happy to say that everyone pulled it off, and no one got hurt (well, at least not for real).

One of the "Shady Ladies" enforcing the law in Prescott

Notables that attended were Dennis Gallagher (Founder & Chairman), Mayor Marlin Kuykendall, the Prescott Buscaderos, the Prescott Regulators and their Shady Ladies including the Fort Whipple Regulars, the Bill Williams Mountain Men, the Arizona Gunfighters, the Arizona Rough Riders, the Buffalo Soldiers, the Victorian Society, Sharlot Hall Museum, John Larkin and Mellisa Ruffner, and the bands Just for Mama and Spur of the Moment. I’m sure there were others; my apologies if I didn’t list them here.

They came down from the mountains, we can only guess what for

Spur of the Moment's Creighton Miller plays dobro on Whiskey Row

Saturday morning started off with an opening ceremony and then the crowd was given the chance to register and sign releases for going into the “corral” to photograph the characters of the reenactment groups. I saw a lot of photographers (and gear!) out there and it looked like they were setting up a lot of cool shots with the actors and making some excellent photos. It will be fun to see the results of the photo contest.

Tough guy

The gunfire and hollering all took place on Whiskey Row, but there was a lot to see at Sharlot Hall, too. Several period-camps were set up with the Rough Riders, the Buffalo Soldiers, and the Fort Whipple Regulars. The Elks Theater was also available to set up some photographs between 10am and noon. I called up Rich Charpentier who has shot some really great stuff at the Elks, and talked him into schlepping all of his gear downtown and setting it up (okay, maybe not ALL of it). He posted a few photos on his blog, too.

Members of the Arizona Rough Riders on the grounds of the original Governor's Mansion

Members of the Fort Whipple Regulars

The Prescott Western Heritage Days organization is a non-profit group donating all net proceeds from the event to the Sharlot Hall Museum and Prescott’s Christmas Lighting. The event is free to the public. See you next year.

Dennis Gallagher, founder and chairman of Prescott Western Heritage Days