The Trip That Wasn't

We didn't make it to Nicaragua. Guatemala melted. Basically, massive flooding interfered with our plans to bus it through Central America. Pretty sad situation all the way around, but we made the most of it.

Never a dull moment.

Rushed off to the bus station Sunday night after the assembly to find the crew equipped with surfboards, pillows, and sleeping pills. Look at the innocence on Jacinta's face. We had no idea we were about to be thwarted in a large way.

We arrived at the bus station in Tapachula at a cheery 4:30 in the morning to find out there were no buses running to Guatemala for up to three days. We set up camp in the bus station for a nap and to sort out a plan.

Anyone who's had Larry Kline as a circuit overseer knows that the most important key to witnessing is to MAF (Make A Friend), complete with corresponding hand gesture. Vinny wasted no time in MAFing away at the bus station while we waited out the weather.

We checked the buses every couple hours, loaded up taxis with surfboards in search of a hostel that wouldn't end in our demise, and watched Nacho Libre, which kind of makes you remember why you are in Mexico in the first place.

On Day 3 of waiting it out, we secured a passenger bus to get us across the border. At this point, we were feeling pretty bewildered because we had all mentally checked out of Central America mode. They took our bags and board away to the bus. We all looked at each other. Here we go. Taking a dodgy bus into the heart of Central America in the middle of epic landslides. Minutes later, the bus driver comes back to tell us the news - our luggage is too heavy, he can't take us. All of our silent prayers were answered, and the answer was clear. Back to Puerto. Vamanos. 

Resigned to our fate, but what better place to come home could we have?

The drive went swimmingly for 10 hours or so. When we got close to Huatulco, we stopped for a bite to eat and a surf. Kirstie befriended a bird using an amazing series of clicks and tweets. She also speaks Afrikaans, and makes a mean bruschetta.

Kent, not to be outdone, befriended a baby raccoon.

Vin & Kent, aerial scope.

Vin & Kent, sea-level scope.

What's it looking at in the road, precious?

Merely a giant Shelob!

In case you were wondering, this is what  being stuck at a border crossing for three days and then being chased by the above giant spider looks like:

Crazy. Utterly mad. Ok, so the next part of the trip was a bit rough. After we had been fed and surfed, we hit the road for an easy cruise home. 15 minutes pass and the entire highway comes to a stop. An entire village had barricaded the road to Puerto. There is only one road.

After considering all possible options (Do we wait it out? Do we preach to them? Do we give them money for the water pump they wanted? Do we artfully dodge them in our vehicle?), Kent kicks into ultra-Aussie mode and peels off into the bush. Using a series of backroads and four wheel drive, we were sure to find away around the human barricade. Thirty minutes and one brush with a drug dealer later, we found our way out. Into the middle of the demonstration. We sat there like ninnys for a few minutes while the locals laughed at the güeros trapped in their trap. They had music. They had tacos. They weren't going anywhere.

 Long story short, Vince and Kent concocted a plan, and many, many hours later, after traversing one of Mexico's most beautiful and treacherous detour roads, we found our way around the demonstration and into Puerto. The whole car was howling like wolves and screaming like monkeys when we saw the trusty Pemex ahead of us. "We're home guys! We're home!" Jacinita called. We needed beer. We need chocolate milk. Vince had both.

We'd only been away from Puerto for a week. Vince and Jacinta have been here for years. I've been here three months. Kent and Kirstie got here a month before I did. But when we drove down the familiar costera, all of us were overwhelmed with the same overwhelming sensation - the feeling of home.