Luis @ MindSay

5:00 . . . a.m.  . . . the pillow is "fitted" to your head, the bed warm and the covers molded to you . . . not quite enough sleep  . . . and you're awake enough to do two things. One of them you can do in bed under the covers and stay  . . . waaarm . . . soft touches and sweet kisses . . . anything above a whisper is too loud . . . but the things whispered are sweet sweet to say . . . sweeter yet to hear . . . Without my love cuddled next to me . . . allowing me kisses while she tried to kiss me back and sleep "just a minute longer"  . . . I searched the air of that fragrance of "sweet sweat" . . . held that thought for the moment and got dressed . . .

There are some fall mornings that I appreciate the sun not coming up too soon . . . this was one of them. Start a HOT shower . . .I poured a cup  . . . a quick sip and let it cool as the hot water warmed me . . . put the rest in the thermos . . . grabbed my bag . . . my tote and the tackle . . . 

Luis loves me and enjoys the little adventures we occupy the day with. He gets in the truck and slumps . . . pouring coffee into our cups  . . . and wisely not telling me of the sweet kisses and the beauty he's left snuggled deeply wrapped in the covers . . . in order to go with me . . .

The marina cafe opens at 4:30 . . . and is used to fishermen coming in, needing food quickly to take. Rose, short for Rosarita, waves that she knows what I need and disappears into the back. A minute or two later she brings a large bag of hot biscuit sandwiches and two coffees . . . sausage and egg, bacon and egg, and chorizo and egg . . . She makes biscuits 8 to a pan instead of 12 . . . they're hand-size and soak up everything from egg yolk, to butter  . . . I've never gotten a biscuit that wasn't too hot to hold. That's how fresh they are . . .  I buy a dozen of the sandwiches and an extra 6 biscuits  . . . she puts in extra butter and honey, and heavy whipping cream for the coffee . . .  she hands me another bag with half gallon of cold fresh milk . . . to wash them down with . . . In about 5 minutes I'm in and out . . .

It's just after 6:00 and the pier is all ours  . . . except for one other . . . and he sees us and waves . . . and holds a coffee cup in the air . . . wanting a refill . . . he's been here since around 3:00 . . .

The Point Hueneme (pronounced "why-nee-mee") pier is off the beaten path and so far the locals have done their best to keep it that way. It's wooden, built in a zig zag . . . extending out 1400 feet  . . . and this morning just as it's getting light, you can see the faint traces of the Santa Cruz and Anacapa islands through the early morning marine layer. This is one of my favorite places on earth . . . I've only brought one other here . . . Something about the little-too-cool sea air to bring someone into your arms for a little warmth . . . the sunset, then the moonlight . . . to make each moment timeless and each kiss more tender than the previous one . . .

If there's a storm coming in, this is the place. This morning the breeze off the water is more than chilly, and I came prepared for the day dressed in a tee shirt, long sleeve work shirt and my favorite Carhart wool lined shirt  . . . all buttoned up to start with, each layer coming off as the sun warmed things up . . . then each one back on as the day passed and the sun set.

The bottom is primarily sand, the pilings are well covered with mussel. In the summer there is kelp and seaweed around the end of the pier. If you fish inshore there are a few surfperch but further out there is halibut, white croaker, thromback and guitarfish. On the end you might get Pacific mackerel, jack mackerel or sardines. A few will catch bonito or barracuda, but not often, usually September through November. You might catch a spider crab . . . and you can watch dolphin and whale swimming.

The name Hueneme was given in 1856 by James Alden who was in charge of the Coast Survey steamer "Active" and comes from the Chumash Indian village Wene'me or Wene'mu which means "safe place". The town was settled in 1870.There is an underwater canyon created by a very strong freshwater flow out of an aquifer just east of the point. The current was so strong that ships were able to take on freshwater while still at sea.

The man waving to us is "Nacho"  . . . a nickname for being one of the best scratch cooks ever. His mother was from Majorca and his father was Portuguese. He served in the Navy, resigned to make more money in the Merchant Marines . . . I've got it on good authority that the "real money" was from dealing with whiskey and machinery that was not always on the manifest. He married Hanna when she was 14, they had four boys and three girls. He's been a fisherman all his life . . . tuna fishing, salmon off Alaska, king crab . . . marlin and swordfish . . . He made good money, bought his own boat and they raised their children  . . . Hanna going to mass while he slept late or went fishing.  I had went to the pier one day, got to watching him "catch" while others "fished" and went over and shared my coffee with him. We poured coffee, he handed me a rod, and gave me my first lesson in how to use bait.  Just like a craftsman will show you his work to be admired, he likes having someone to teach how to fish . . . to show you how good he is at it.

Luis has a difficult time when he doesn't have an opinion. Fishing is a mystery to him and he keeps investigating and probing and asking questions. Nacho has endless patience and likes keeping Luis guessing. Most people get bored, or don't pay attention and to Nacho, every cast is important. If you're not there to learn or catch a fish then you're wasting your time. With nine in the family, catching fish was a way to get some peace and quiet and to feed all the mouths they had. I listen in when he talks about Hanna being pregnant with a son or his daughters . . . teasing Luis, giving him advice . . . and how much he suffered from not getting enough attention, then when he finally got all the attention and loving he wanted . . . Hanna would be pregnant again . . .

Luis poured coffee and Nacho baited hooks and put poles in our hand . . . not even bothering to let us ask questions or show him what we remembered from our last day . . . and then dug into the brown bag for Rose's biscuit sandwiches . . . a big bite, a sip of coffee and then a drink of milk . . . another bite  . . . and then "good morning"  . . . he was happy to see us, happier that we brought hot food . . . 

G.

P.S. It was cold on the very end of the pier, so far out over the water . . . the hot coffee and biscuits hit the spot and the heavy jackets kept it all in until the sun was up and the sky cleared for perfect day in the low 70's. Tonight there is a huge Harvest Moon from the evening before and we're all thinking its being wasted . .  a perfect day of fishing . . . good food . . . and right now we should all have the loves of our lives in our arms here in the moonlight . . . keeping them warm from the chill of the cool sea air  . .  each kiss sweeter than the previous.

******* Tuesday*******

"What . . . is . . . this?  Karit was reaching for the biscuits as he waited for the answer.

"Huevos Rancheros" Luis had just dished it up, and Karit took a big bite . . .

"O-k-a-y . . . if you say so. Doesn't look like what Isabel calls huevos rancheros, or taste . . . "

"Don't talk with your mouth full . . . c-o-m-p-a-d-r-e"

 I had thought that the enthusiasm for the trip and some of the energy might be fading this morning, but it wasn't. If there weren't any questions at supper last night, they made up for it at breakfast. To answer all of the questions and review, I pulled out the day’s job-plan and how it was broken up. That way they asked the same questions but could look at the sections we'd build today. My guys were confident and filled their coffee cups and beat me out the door.

 A quick review, we organized the materials and one more lesson in "Zen Tools". I pulled a couple of pieces of scrap to one side, took a nail, set it and then drove it in three hits. Then another . . .  They tried the same and drove the nail in 5, 6, 7 . . . some slanted. The goal was set the nail and then drive in straight, in three.

 A slow start, and worked picked up nicely and Karit was the first one to finish the first section. I finished just ahead of Luis and would take time away from mine to answer questions and make adjustments and help them keep their momentum. Late that morning we took a break for more water and a cup of coffee and checked our progress. Without much comment, a deli-sandwich and fruit for lunch, another cup of coffee and a three gallon Igloo of iced water, we went back and pushed until it got shady, then beginning to get dark  . . . but we finished. Tomorrow we'd be on schedule and they were faster, confident. The cuts on angle and the fittings tight, everything.

 I started a fire and got out a grill while they were taking a shower. When I got out Luis was grilling steaks and vegetables, Karit had iced tea. A good fire, and good conversation about what they had accomplished. The night before they looked at one section completed after all day, now along with it was most of the framing completed . . . a huge increase in what they were able to produce.

******Wednesday*******

"What . . . is . . . this?  Karit was reaching for the biscuits as he waited for the answer.

"Huevos Rancheros"  Luis had just dished it up, and Karit took a big bite . . .

"THAT'S what you said yesterday. This doesn't look like . . . "

"What are you trying to say c-o-m-p-a-d-e?"

"How can anyone call these huevos rancheros, when you called . . . "

"G. Will you tell y-o-u-r friend that . . . "

"Luis!  These . . . huevos rancheros . . . delicious . . . "
"Thank you . . . G!! I knew y-o-u would appreciate my cooking"

 We sat for an extra cup of coffee for breakfast. They looked at the days plans with an experienced eye, Luis made notes and finished his coffee. I opened the trailer and took out two brand new solid Titanium hammers. Only 14 oz, and hit the nail just as hard . . . compared to 21 oz, they'd been using. We did the math on hitting a nail 5,6,7 times with 21 oz, as compared to hitting the nail in 3 with 14 oz.  . . . then multiplying that by a couple of hundred nails driven in a days work.

 "DAMN!"  Luis and Karit tried the new Titanium hammers. They had practiced all day before and were getting the three strokes down well. We organized the materials and went to work.  We stopped for coffee, well on schedule today . . .when a friend of mine's wife showed up with a hug.  She went into the RV and took two large pots with her and waved.

"Hmmmm?  G?" Luis raised his eyebrows and Karit smiled. She was very very pretty . . .
"I got lunch handled. I figured you guys would want groceries for lunch today".

"Sounds good. But we had a big breakfast yesterday too"

"Yeah, yesterday it was real "huevos rancheros"

 We were well on schedule and ending everything was within striking distance if we pushed it. That would give us an extra day. They couldn't have been prouder if their mothers were here to see what their little boys had done. . .   Luis and Karit both wanted to call home and tell their loves all about it. Marta came back with food and they both hung their hammers, like a gunfighter would his Colt, on their tool belts and swaggered over to eat.

"The BEST Chili beans you ever ate. Fresh corn tortillas, marinated jalapeño’s and jicima. Supper will be home made tamales with the best masa you ever ate and mole'"  The steam was coming off the food when she sat down and poured iced tea for us and herself. The guys didn't say a word but filled their plates and rolled their eyes at the first bite of the beans. With their mouths full, I introduced our cook . . . Marta laughed at as they got to their feet and tried to introduce themselves. She sat next to me and caught me up with her family. She cooks out of her kitchen and sells the food, not from a restaurant. So we were eating the same cooking she makes for her family . . . and it was disappearing fast. No questions, no talking . . . you'd think I'd starved these two as they refilled the beans and picked the marinated jalapeños.

 We had finished lunch by noon and the guys were wanting to set the bar high . . . I brought out my jobsite radio/CD/battery charger . . . they grabbed the materials list and turned to the work . . . tape measures flashed . . . carpenters pencils stuck behind their ears . . .nail pouches bulging . . . and "drive in 3" was "no problemo" . . .

 The first beats of "My Maria" broke out . . . and I cranked up the Brooks & Dunn CD's  . . . and the momentum returned and kept the beat as the two-steppin' music kept us going  . . . by 3:50 . . . D-O-N-E . . .

G.

P.S.  . . . We were inspected later that afternoon. The team was supposed to catch up and we were ready . .  early. With new tools belts, tape measures, squares and, two kinds of framing hammers (both on the tool belts) they "graduated" and got a handshake from a good friend of mine and a "well done" . . . as they carefully explained every cut and joint, in the "lingo" of the trade, to my friend.

With any project there is a sense of urgency, and you want to see results, progress, A.S.A.P. If you cut corners, or push too hard, it’s almost certain you’ll make mistakes, have set backs, shoddy work or fail altogether. The consequences are dramatic or in many cases, tragic. In the Marines they teach “Intent and Implementation” to prepare for the mission ahead. No “John Wayne” bullshit heroics (he never served his country), but a plan and a system that can be understood and adapted.  Ultimately time and resources are best spent when you plan your work and work your plan . . .

A project like this, building several units almost simultaneously, has to be highly structured and organized to a plan. We would have our work cut out for us to do our part by the time the team caught up to us, and there would be a sense of urgency in seeing progress. I had everything worked out so they would learn how to make the measurements, the cuts and understand how to build a frame for a house.

It didn’t take long to check in, get the RV parked and set up and stretch while I spoke to my friend there. I found the site on the hand out and had a coordinating schedule so I’d know when we were expected to have our work done. Not being too distracted by the team’s progress and efficiency, and the enthusiasm Luis and Karit had for coming in the first place . . . we began by organizing our jobsite with our materials,  and the tools we’d use and the fabrication area.

I prepared a schematic of the frame we’d be building and the specs. I divided it up into sections, the sections broken down to sub-sections and noted where the windows and doors would need to be framed. Beginning with the first section I began with just the materials needed and a cut-list. Working with a cut list kept everything from being too overwhelming and simpler to concentrate and focus on. I handed out tape measures and brand new Estwing 24 oz framing hammers, squares and carpenters pencils, and . . . a leather tool belt to hang them from that had their name hand tooled on . . . they buckled up and they got their first lecture in “Zen Tools” . . .

Beginning with the first thing on the cut list, we picked up a board . . . measured . . . set the square to the right angle and made the cut. Then they each cut their own and we steadily worked through the list. Hot hot coffee from the Thermos was always handy and iced water out of the Igloo and we took our first break about noon. I like to keep lunch light and they just went along with me. Plenty of water . . .  fresh dates, dried apricots, bananas, oranges or apples and a cup of coffee to start back to work and we took the cut list, turned it over and I had listed the pieces from the cut list needed to form the first section.

By the time the sugar from the fruit was beginning to wear off, we ran out of coffee and pushed just a little as the sun was definitely going down . . . and we finished the first section.   From cut list, to first cuts, to a completed section . . . their first day.   We had a little daylight left, put away the tools and took turns in the shower and then set outside in the breeze. Luis checked the trailer and saw everything was secure, I built a fire as it turned dark, and Karit made a quick supper of roast beef strips, au ju, long rolls from the bakery and salad. Isabel sent brownies and we had a big brownie, and shots of brandy by the fire. Karit made hot ginger tea.

“Any questions?”

“No, I did the same things so much, then they just went together like you said. I didn’t realize we’d done so much until the day was gone and I started getting really tired”.  Luis scooted closer to the fire to get the bottle of brandy and filled up all the glasses.

“I’m thinking of things, but not about what we did. I’m wondering how we’re going to get to the rest of the frame, the windows and doors. Karit was already writing a note and missing home. Luis changed the subject and we talked about the trip . . . the girls.

G.

P.S. No questions and they weren’t so worn out that they got tired of sitting out by the fire and looking at the section they built from scratch their first day.

Tres Compadres . . .

There’s something about early morning before sunrise . . .  there’s a coolness in the summer air, a dampness in the fall and spring air and a Frigid Soul in winter . . . you’re cloaked and unseen, unnoticed . . . private . . . When the sun comes up it injects reality and you become a part of “out there” . . .

All my life . . . growing up, at 6 or 7 we had livestock and I had before sunrise chores . . . flying missions at 19, that pre-dawn cloak, inside-looking-out . . . then with light, the business at hand . . .

In the past few years that pre-dawn addiction replaces a Cobra with my truck . . . strapping in, adjusting my radio, checking the instruments, the fuel, listening to the engine, checking visibility in the mirrors and my load for the day . . . I still have my checklist . . . and off to the business at hand. There’s no sweeter flight than before dawn, or sweeter time to drive on an open highway . . .

Sleepy goodbyes . . . comfy lovers, that stayed where it was warm and just right . . . once, twice . . . three kisses goodbye . . .

I was up earlier and made coffee and checked my rig, and had the truck ready, the running lights on and two thermos’ of hot hot coffee, and almost two hours before sunrise . . .  

“Running for the border G?”  Karit refilled my coffee cup and handed it to me.

“There’s a certain comfort in that. You’re leaving something behind, setting it aside for now, settle the score later, but going to embrace something else”

“Embrace? Interesting choice of words”  Karit caught my eye and raised his eyebrow.

“That must mean that you are an outlaw, G”  Luis grew up in El Paso and knows a thing or two about outlaws, running the border and “embracing” on the other side.

“If I am, then with the company you keep . . . mi c-o-m-p-a-d-r-e . . .

“Tres Compadres? I like that. Not Three Amigos. I don’t like that at all . . . Compadres . . . companions . . . There’s no doubt that you two are outlaws though “  Karit was a bit profound for this early in the morning

“G? What does HE mean by that?”

“He means that he’s got culture and refinement”
”I’m not going to forget that Karit”

“Tres Compadres!”  Karit held his coffee cup high

“Tres Compadres! . . .” I reached and put in a CD . . .

“Tres Hombres!  ZZ Top . . . Time to put a head on it G!”

“Tres Compadres . . . that could be our construction company . . . can we get a logo? Tee shirts with a logo? We need that. I wish we had that now. Tee shirts with logos . . ." 

“I have a dozen in the back, if you don’t mind wearing my logo”

“Cool, absolutely. What color G?  But we should have a Tres Compadres logo tee shirt too. I mean for again . . . G?”

Karit rolled his eyes . . . "What about a cap? Did you . . ."

"G? You got caps too? We should have caps, with logos . . . How many caps you got? I want to look professional . . ."

G.

P.S. We stopped, topped off the tanks and had breakfast as the sun rose. We crossed the border and the traffic that was headed towards what we left behind. The posse that had followed us so far . . . had to stop . . . at the border . . .

P.P.S.  Posted 8/24/06 from Colonial Negra, Baja