Saving Grace

 

It took me a bit to write this because sometimes trauma requires a minute in order to breathe and back off the ledge.

We crossed the border into Mexico at Calexico, CA on December 11th. We weren't sure we'd be able to do so since one of our sons contracted Covid, and we had just been with him. So we waited, tested and crossed with our travel companion, Dawn and her RV, Moxie. All went well at the border, no hitches while driving and then we were ready to stop for the night at a place recommended by iOverlander, an app that shows travelers where to boondock (aka sleep for free.) Off the pavement we went, into the cacti-strewn terrain and took a hard left instead of a soft one. The road looked passable, albeit rocky and sandy at points.  I mentioned to Rachel that we were going further than where the map indicated the spot would have been for the night. There was no place to turn around and before you could say "Aye caramba!" we were stuck in deep sand. 

Luckily Dawn had a shovel and a rake (both on my wish list now!) We dug, shoveled and freed the engine and were able to move 3 feet. Rinse and Repeat. Over the next 3 days, we did everything we could think of to free ourselves, since we are 3 powerful, resourceful women. We dug holes that would make an undertaker proud, we used traction mats, we deflated the front tires (FWD) until they were nearly flat, we hauled  backpacks full of rocks over 1/2 mile to form a hard surface, we spray-painted a huge SOS in red on the sand, we stood on the roof of the van with a billowy white sheet. We tried calling for help via our walkie-talkies. Dawn rode her electric bike to the paved road and stood with a sigh that said "AYUDA POR FAVOR." 

No one stopped. 

We were stuck between starlight, the howling winds and the coyotes in the Mexican outback where apparently no one hiked and no plane flew. My body was sore in places I didn't even know existed. My butt cheeks hurt from so much digging. We were asleep by 7 pm every night. 

By the third afternoon, we focused on getting Dawn in position to drive out and ask for help: she had to drive her van over a soft sand berm and up onto the cactus and sagebrush-strewn hardpacked sand beside the road. She muscled over, and in one last ditch effort, she tried to pull us out. Luckily she was free, but still had to drive the sandy road back out, which felt much more daunting given the stress of last 48+ hours.

The plan was for Dawn to drive like hell through all the gulping gulleys and ravenous rocks and with any luck, make it to the paved road where she would reinflate her tires. Then she would get to a place that had wifi and call our friend Joni who had connections in Mexico and the knowledge of having lived 5 years on the road. We were lucky to have had the walkie-talkies with good range because Dawn was not coming back in her van to this quick sand. We made a plan of what to do if she didn't radio us back within 24 hours.

She left in the afternoon of what would be our third night of entrapment, and we hoped we'd hear from her by the morning. Now, I was started to get scared. I was trying not to go into the bad neighborhoods of my mind and that was a struggle especially at 1 am. Neither Rachel nor I slept well that night.

In the morning, Dawn radioed that she found a tiny restaurant and that I, knowing the most Spanish, should walk the 2 miles back to the highway and hop into her van to go get help. I took my knife ready to attack any cactus, bobcat or rattlesnake.  I got to Dawn's van, sweaty but elated. After trying to follow suggestions that our friend Joni recommended to no avail, I saw a long flatbed tow truck pulling into the lot. 

That was nothing short of a miracle because I was told there is no tow truck service within hundreds of kilometres of our desert "campsite." Blessedly, the three guys who were in the truck agreed to help, although I'm quite sure they did not know what they were getting into. I hopped into their truck and down the road we went.  Their running board, as well as their side mirror were damaged in the treacherous terrain. 

As we crept toward Rachel who was again digging out Ruby Van Dyke, they kept asking "how much longer...?"

Finally, we got to our van. As they approached, they got stuck twice in the deep sand where we first were entrapped, about 25 yards behind our current location. Thankfully, with their persistence they got freed themselves as we explained that they'd have to get over the berm on the side of the road and onto harder packed sand strewn with vegetation in order to pull us to a place we could get solid footing. They tore thru the bushes, the cacti and sand, hooked us up and  pulled us over the berm. Thank goodness we had just had our rear hitch reinforced as it was not meant to be pulled from the rear with so much force, through a deep well of sand that had entombed us days early. We were sweating, as it seemed there was no way they could put us on their truck bed, making them heavier, and make it back to the pavement. Luckily, we were determined to get out, so we got RVD facing in the right direction and followed the path of our friend Dawn. God bless Rachel, who is a driver-extraordinaire. Although she was shaking in her sandals, she drove us all the way back on deflated tires, all of us having escaped any apparent catastrophic damage. I hugged her and the guys who helped us and whooped and hollered at the turkey vultures, who had lost their opportunity to snack on our desiccated gringo carcasses...

We learned much about slowing down, about limits, and about asking for help. For all the drama and fear we had experienced, we were deeply grateful that we had water, food, shelter and heat, unlike the migrants crossing the surrounding massive mountains with none of these resources, many carrying children and facing unfathomable violence.

I wanted to tell you about this event, not to scare you or discourage you from having adventures, but because after almost 5 years in our Ruby, we had a mishap, a misstep that rattled us.

Several days later, on a stunningly emerald-aqua-teal ribboned beach, where I kayaked with dolphins, where at night, a bio-luminescence appeared when we threw rocks in the water, where the stars radiated red, orange, yellow and white, where I met folks from all over the world, I realized that being on the road with all its offerings, made me feel more alive and that I still preferred that to the safety of home.