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the area and slightly unsure Fish and Game officials snagged the little 4-ft gator. It wasn't quite the theatrical caliber of the late Steve Irwin jumping aboard a thrashing 12-footer ("Isn't she a feisty girl!") to lash its jaws shut, but good press nonetheless. The little gator, which was likely a cast-off pet, was brought to the wildlife investigations lab in Rancho Cordova where it was found to be in excellent health and where, at last report, "They hope to find it a home," presumably a zoo or wildlife reserve. For what it's worth, although an alligator would probably do okay in the Delta during the summer, the general feeling among experts is that it would likely not survive the cold winter.
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TEL: 01152 612 122 1646 FAX: 01152 612 125 5900 email: email@example.com web page: www.marinadelapaz.com Apdo. Postal 290, La Paz, Baja California Sur, Mexico, 23000 Page 106 •
• July, 2007
This is Roberto 'Beto' Eichen, son of cruisers Paul and Susan Eichen, on the way up the coast aboard the Amtrak Pacific Coastliner shortly after celebrating his first birthday. As you can see, no 'Curious George' for this seasoned sailor, who has only recently returned to California after cruising Mexico for, well, half his life. Look for Beto to be working the bow at the America's Cup in about 2028.
The story behind the song. "The myth of the cheeseburger in paradise goes back to a long trip on my first boat, the Euphoria," notes Jimmy Buffet at www.songfacts.com. "We had run into some very rough weather crossing the Mona Passage between Hispanola and Puerto Rico, and broke our new bowsprit. The ice in our box had melted, and we were doing the canned-food-and-peanut-butter diet. The vision of a piping hot cheeseburger kept popping into my mind. We limped up the Sir Francis Drake Channel and into Roadtown on the island of Tortola, where a brand new marina and bar sat on the end of the dock like a mirage. We secured the boat, kissed the ground, and headed for the restaurant. To our amazement, we were offered a menu that featured an American cheeseburger and piña coladas. Now, these were the days when supplies were scarce — when horsemeat was more plentiful than ground beef in the tiny stores of the Third World. Anyway, we gave particular instructions to the waiter on how we wanted them cooked, and what we wanted on them — to which very little attention was paid. It didn't matter. The overdone burgers on the burned-toast buns tasted like manna from Heaven, for they were the realization of my fantasy burgers on the trip. That's the true story. I've heard other people and places claim that I stopped or cooked in their restaurants, but that is the way it happened."
The July 2007 issue of the West's premier sailing and marine magazine.