Another Stroll Down Memory Lane

Does anyone remember the old El Arco trailer park?

Back in the hay day of the now defunct El Arco trailer park, there were a number of boat captains who lived in trailers there. The old trailer park is now just a heap of trash by the side of the road, on the north side or the street about eight miles out of Cabo. It was closed down and everyone was told to hit the trail because the owners wanted to develop the land. They weren’t content to collect paltry rents on broken down trailers by the down and outers who lived there. They hadn’t kept the property up because they knew for years they were going to make these changes. It’s a pretty sad commentary on the quality of rif raf who lived there that many of them trashed their trailers and palapas on their way out because they were angry at the eviction.

Oh, you could say the renters had a right to be angry since many of them had invested a fair amount of money in their property, but you also have to acknowledge that only a fool spends more money on another man’s property than he can afford to walk away from. Of course, the lawyers didn’t help the situation, (do they ever?) when they squeezed money out of many of the renters by promising they could force the owners to allow them to stay there if they just paid a little more money to be represented in court.


Here is one story about one of the colorful characters who lived in the El Arco trailer park. There was a boat captain known as “el pero.” That means “the dog” in Spanish. Dog, he was one of those guys who built a real house around his trailer. It was a proper two-bedroom affair, in a great spot on the hill with an awesome view of the Arch. The Dog was a pig of a man. Skinny arms and legs and a big fat belly hanging over his sagging pants. A space between his two front teeth that you could pass a pork chop through. Think part Grinch and part Jabba the Hutt.

Somehow, the Dog and the guy that owned the local ice plant became associated with one another. The ice guy truly admired the Dog’s house and particularly the incredible view of Lands End, the Arch and the beautiful bay of Cabo. After much back and forth, a deal was finally struck, and the ice guy purchased the little two-bedroom house at the trailer park. Every day he would go to work in the morning and return in the afternoon to a breathtaking view and a cold margarita. And the Dog waited. And plotted his next move. Because, you see, Dog had a plan and was in cahoots with the trailer park manager.

One sunny afternoon, as the ice guy swung in his hammock after a long day at the ice plant, the Dog rattles up in his beat up old Chevy Nova. The Dog pops open the Chevy trunk and pulls out some wooden stakes, a hammer, some surveying tape and some string. Slowly, deliberately, the ice guy rolls out of his hammock and walks over to see what the Dog is up to in his front yard. He’s putting on a pretty good show of measuring stuff out, and then starts to hammer his pile of stakes into the dirt right in front of ice guy's house.

 The ice man can’t take it any longer; he has to ask.

"Well bro, I'm going to build my new house here," is the answer. Ice guy, not shy about pointing out the obvious, says, “But that will ruin my view!” Dog man says, “I’m real sorry about that, but you should a read the fine print." Classic Dog.

Just then, the trailer park manager strolls by and he backs up the Dog’s story about owning the dirt in front of ice guy's house. Of course, it was all BS. Still, a deal was struck and the Dog as usual came out on top. Ice guy's view was saved, and the Dog had a nice little beer stash.       

These days, many years later, you will occasionally spot the Dog in town but he doesn't stay long. Some say he had to move on. Heard it was over one of his cooked up deals.