Well, I'm back in California, but amazed that I made it back OK. I can't believe the nearly disastrous adventure that happened to me. I am so thankful to the wonderful local people who took me in while I was in trouble.
It all started when we headed back on the long drive home with half our crew. Two wanted to stay for a few more days and the boys had to head home. The waves had died down a lot, so I thought I should probably head back and organize my trip to Brazil. BAD IDEA!!
We had walkie-talkies between the two cars that worked for up to two miles. This was our only communication. I was in one truck alone and the two boys were in the other. We started off fine and would meet up at every gas station or checkpoint. That's fine until you get to a straightaway with nothing in sight for hours. The boys were ahead of me with the faster car, and went so far in front of me that the walkie-talkies were useless. I was driving along fine until the clutch started to sound and act funny. I kept going until finally the truck was going nuts and wouldn't go when I pressed the gas. I was stuck! On my own! In the middle of nowhere-land! IN BAJA!!
I freaked out and jumped out of the car, trying to wave anyone down who could help me. One semi trucked passed and the driver threw up his hand helplessly as he passed. The next person who came by was a nice old local man who pushed my truck with his for a bit and left me off near a little cafe and house. He tried to calm me down and said that the guys would come back for me when I don't show up at the next gas station, two hours away.
Meanwhile, it turns out that the boys (Chris Macres and Jim) never stopped. They kept going with their beers and joint, not caring or noticing that they had left a little blonde surfer chick in the middle of the desert of Mexico. They were wasted, spent all their money on alcohol and couldn't afford to stop at the town where we had planned to rest for the night and take off the following day. I don't know what they were thinking and couldn't believe they would go on their way without checking in with me.
So there I was, sitting in front of a tiny cafe with a broken truck, full of adrenaline, tears, and frustration. It was near San Agustin, a tiny little place in the middle of nowhere. Finally, some ranch worker boys came over to check on the problem, which we figured was the clutch. I am so thankful I learned some Spanish, because they didn't know any English at all! I asked them if there was a mechanic nearby. No. How about a telephone? No. No nothing for at least 2 hours in either direction! The mechanic was far away and would be very difficult to get to or even to find. By this time I had tears streaming down my face. I didn't care anymore what they thought--I just let it out.
While I sat there and cried, the local boys started getting into the engine. More and more of them emerged from who knows where since there is nothing around except this little house and gathered around to see if they could do something. One guy, Rosario, had a truck similar to mine (an '81 4x4 Toyota) and knew a little about the engine. He worked on it for hours and finally removed the broken clutch. The pad on it was totally gone. I needed a new one and he said he might be able to find me one. I gave him some money and off he went. I wasn't confident that he would ever come back, but to my surprise, he showed up with a clutch a couple of hours later and was ready to keep working. By this time it was pitch dark, but Rosario kept at it for many more hours to complete the job. His buddies returned after work and found something in the engine to work on.
Meanwhile, the lady in the cafe came out, put her arm around me, and invited me in. She told me that everything was OK but it was very lucky that I broke down where I did. She said that it is very dangerous out there in the desert, but I would be safe with her and her husband. She made me Mexican frijoles and gave me a bucket of water to rinse off with. She and her husband slept outside, and she reassured me that it would be safe to sleep in my truck next to them. They had a fence around the property, so I felt better and better the more I spoke with her (speaking in Spanish the whole time, believe it or not!).
After 8 hours, the guys ( Pepe, Jose, Eddy and the main mechanic, Rosario) finished the truck. "Ya esta! Esta listo!" (That's it, it's ready to go!) said Rosario, as he closed the hood. We went for a little test drive and it was like nothing had ever happened. The truck was like new--I couldn't believe it! It was fixed and I would be on my way tomorrow.
The lady of the house kept telling me how lucky I was that these guys had fixed it. If they hadn't, I would have had to stay there for a couple of days until her husband went to town to get gas, water and milk. Then I would have gone with him to try and get in touch with my dad. She told me that mechanics are very hard to find, parts for trucks are hard to come by, and if I had left my truck alone it would have been dismantled by thieves. I paid Rosario and the guys as much money as I could, but saved enough to buy some gas on the way home since I was almost on E.
Buenos Noches! After all this craziness, I was ready for bed and fell fast asleep in the back of the truck, tucked in between my boards and sails. At the break of dawn the rooster crowed his head off and woke us all up early. We had our morning cafe and she cooked up some delicious eggs, beans and tortillas for breakfast. After a million thanks and promises to stay in touch with my new guardian angels, I headed off for the rest of the trip back home. I still had to pass TJ and the border, which I was a little nervous about doing alone. My gas was also getting closer and closer to E, but I thought this would be a simple problem to fix compared to the clutch incident.
I finally got to a town with phone connection, where I could finally call my dad and tell him everything. I was on the phone with friends and family for the next few hours until I made it back to San Diego. Every time there was a checkpoint or gas station, the people there would ask me why I was alone in Mexico. They all couldn't believe my situation and wished me luck.
Now that I am safe, I look back on this as an awesome experience. I met some of the most amazing people ever and can't wait to gather up a ton of construction material, clothes and food to take down there.
If you ever go to Mexico, make sure you stop by San Agustin, the next little cafe stop south of El Rosario. Buy some frijoles and cafe, and say hi to Nati, Rosario and the rest of my guardian angels.
