Today was Tuesday, January 25th. We were at Chito’s Ranch, outside of Todos Santos. We rose from our sleep at 7:30am and were greeted by shivering gangs of daddy long legs that huddled in the corners of our tents. We shivered too. For breakfast we had chilaciles, eggs, beans, and chopped fruit. It was delicious and provided sustenance for the service that was about to ensue.
Grabbing our rakes, pick axes, hoes, pitch forks, machetes (for fending off rattlers), and great gumption, we preceded to fill in the road that Jonathon had dug up the day before. We repaired a bridge in order to prevent traffic from bottoming out and removed loose rock to keep tires from creating deeper ruts. It was pleasantly warm and we maintained a high level of hydration.
The chefs prepared a savory beef soup for lunch and it disappeared quickly. After lunch we had an English class in which we translated a poem and created our own renditions of it. It was a practice in transferring the structure, sound, and emotion of the words into a different language. Empathy, confusion, and laughter were in no short supply (one example is shown at the bottom of this post).
We set about for a second block of service whacking weeds and raking leaves.The work was enjoyable and filled with great conversation.The group cleared weeds, brush, and downed limbs to make the camping area more pleasant and prepare it for more development. I learned that when listening to Robiny sing 100 bottles of pop on the wall 100 times it only gets more entertaining.
For dinner we had grilled chicken, fajitas, and lentil soup. I recommend the habanero cream and Valentina topping options. Everybody enjoyed a fun-filled evening and shared six word stories at debrief around a cozy fire. A couple of mine: the ever changing waves of time, the smell of salt water and sand, I do not speak any Spanish. A couple of Ben’s: the cruel snail drilled into scallops, blackened fish, habanero slaw, culinary perfection.
I believe that everyone showed wonderful teamwork and the sense of community through the whole day. It’s always good to be able to help out whenever possible. Tomorrow we will drive back to Todos Santos and begin our trip wrap up. What a whirlwind it has all been, it’s hard to believe that the trip is drawing to a close.
Mi Padre
Francisco Alarcon
Mi padre
Y yo nos
Saludamos
Cautelosos
como si
Sellaramos
Una tregua
En un campo
De batalla
Nos sentamos
A comer como
Dos extraños
Yo se que
En el fondo
El también
Rechaza
Ese mal
Esa locura
Esa pesadilla
Llamada
Macho
My Father
My father
And I
Salute
Cautiously
As if
To seal
A rest
In the swarming
Nest of war
We posture
To eat
As two strangers
I know that
In his heart
He too
Rejects
The illness
And madness
A bad dream
Called
Macho
– Sonya