Lee

At the onset of that long stretch of Southern Baja California desert, I decided to stop to take some photos of the magnificent vegetation. Within a couple of minutes a large white Dodge Dually pickup stops by, and a mean-looking white haired man exits. For some reason I'm feeling fear, and decide to face it head on. "Ola! Como estas!" I offer. No response. "Where you headed to?" he asks, and by now I'm thinking he's some landowner, or someone looking over these parts. I explain what I'm doing, and he softens. He mentions he's from Canada, not knowing where I was from. Turns out he's from Red Deer, about 45 minutes west of my home town.
Lee has been living in La Paz for awhile now, and holds citizenship in 3 countries. I gathered he was a pilot, and certainly fit the bill, with his clean crew-cut, and aviator glasses. He was heading to San Diego to see his daughter, and was forced to drive with only 4 gears, as he had just recently lost his 5th. Our conversation was interesting, and he enlightened me on several topics including flying in Mexico City (high elevation, very difficult), circumventing foreign ownership laws (the bank holds title to your property only as a national representative), and drug cartel business dealings (plata o plomo, which, literally translated means 'silver or lead', or do business with us, or die from a bullet).


He left me saying he had simply stopped to water a plant. "Which one?" I asked, thinking "What a nice man! He must be making a memorial for a fallen friend or something." "Oh, I just go out in the bush, and find one, probably that big one with the apples on it" Finally, I realize I've been away from Albertan humour in a while, and abashedly mention I wouldn't be eating any of those apples. We part ways with a giggle, and he comes over to the bike to offer some more advice on the upcoming windy road.