Take me down to Mexico, Rosarito, Baha California

--From the Scotty Glasburg Travels

After St.George had brang what it brought.
I was asked to take a vacation.
I wondered where the trip was going to take me, until the words escaped my friends mouth there was no debating.
The words he spoke I seemed to be relating.
So a trip to baja is what was instated.
A friend of theres whom I’d heard much about
Packed up what he needed and took his plane down south.
When he was down there they saw mountains of asure.
Like the cows of mexico the I-1 was our pasture.
We reached the mountains after 24 of drivin’.
To huge cliffs along the gulf’s water we were arrivin’.
We hiked up to the cliff, along the side of life,
Converstion ruled the nation,much of to my delight.
With the gulf was to my left and a huge cliff to my right.
The touch of the wall was didn’t match it’s height,
Throw up a couple top ropes when the sky dawns light.
But a weird occurance happened that night .
About 3 a.m. I woke up with fright, a skunk had beared down it’s hair down, biting my friend with it’s might.
We all woke up except Chris in his van, as Sean bashed the mother f’er right off his hand.
Sean sat with no words, as the skunk came back, Kevin Worall gota rock and got on the attack. He picked up a rock and boy did he shock, the thing on the head, it just lied dead so we wrapped it up.
The thing was rabid, and my friend had been bit, so Kevin Worall, Dave from La Jolla and Sean had to dip.
To La Paz they went so Sean could fly out. That’s when C.L. and I took another route.
Along the free way we drove, sippin’ brew and burrito’s. bumpin’ music for amusement, to where the water would glow.
So at about 3 we reached Canajo, a surf spot, where the coast got the best swell it could know.
The lefts were bangin’, metered lefts were arrrangin’, take it all the way in, paddle out for the next set that came in.
The a.m. was weird, Kevin and Dave disappeared, the hangers and times had bounced for the worst that we feared.
But around the corner in the night they had slept,in an enclosed bunker on the out on our left.
3 days had passed a hell lot of driving, as rock climbers were we’re strivn’ for an excellent cliff, where routes we would uplift, offered in future they’d appear as a gift.
To Sierra De San Francisco,we would go, Kevin recommended he’d been there ten years before.
We got to the top, to reach a small community, of western value, was devalued, where life seemed exist in some sanity. We hiked down to the canyon, under afternoon light, we saw features for potential new routes to be administerd for delight. In the morning light we hiked and did the same, to put a route up and boot up and give it a name.
But the routes we found weren’t all that we sought, and decided not to use all the bolts that we bought.
So after that night, we settled in the tent, pouring tequila shoulda’ seen what our words would invent.
The community existed of Cheeba Hearders, who hiked down, right down into the canyon we rappelled. We gave the kids magazines, actually help us to help them all this rock in our dreams, could end in a place where theres means. The next morning we hiked to a small close cliff, so much searching and hiking it appeared as a gift.
Two Anchors we drilled, as we cleaned the routes, we would teach the community how to put these to use. We donated ropes, my harness is now in Baja, over the waist of my Mexican bruddah’
We didn’t find the next best area, we didn’t find or climb the next coolest routes, but all that searching and hiking we found something more, how climbing can reach out all over the world. To touch, a new , to learn , to see, maybe climbing is a medium to set the world free. I know what I found was something so good, to come back to Sierra De San Fran I knew that I would. Bringing bolts and more hangers, I’d do all I could. What we found, were good drives and amazing things, who knows what adventure traveling, and climbing can bring.