Landslide

I was jolted out of my dreamy state when a collective gasp filled the van. We slowed down to a dead stop. When I saw the landslide I knew it was OVER. We'd already driven for nearly four hours, dodging burros and children and falling rocks, but there was no way past this one.

One by one, each car came to a stop, and people got out to stare at the enormous pile of dirt. A few people, carrying their belongings, started to walk over the newly laid mountain. This amazed me, as we were such a long way from any town.

I couldn't believe I had come this far and the trip had to end when we were so close. What were we going to do? We had to either turn around (and drive back four hours?), or a bulldozer had to show up (from where?), and move the entire pile of dirt out of the way.

I noticed something unusual, though, given such a huge crisis. No one was whirling around in anger with a cell phone glued to one ear. There was no swearing or shouting or pounding of car hoods. Other than a few sighs and mutters, it was quiet. Then, at all once, the men, using large branches as shovels or machetes they brought out from their trucks, started to work.

I thought it would take forever for them to move the dirt out of the way, but I soon realized my problem solving skills were born in the USA. When I saw the landslide I could think of only two ways through the dilemma. It never occurred to me that they were making a road to drive over the dirt.

We piled back into the van and La Divina Concepción was egged on by cheers and applause as her wheels spun through the mud and over the hill, and saints danced from the rear view mirror to the sound of grinding gears. The bottom photo is of the first car that made it over the newly carved road. Just above the bumper, it was Juquila that led the way.