Thursday, April 23..........San Isidro De El General, Costa Rica
The van developed another mechanical problem today. I had left Turrialba early in the morning to begin the two-day drive to Panama City. Ascending from the valley floor where Turrialba lies, I saw that the distant mountains were cloaked with great blankets of white fog. My way led through those mountains and the fog seemed soft and beckoning. Quickly the road rose and I was lost in a deep white thickness. The mist was fine, like the dust of talcum powder; and I could even feel it with my tongue. It gave to the windows a faint visual distortion, making the forested hills look like a painting by Renoir or Monet. But with the rising of elevation, the mist thickened and was soon joined by a gentle rain. Turning on the windshield wipers I was astonished to find they did not work. I could here the small motor running so I knew the fuse was good, but the wipers were unmoving on the front window. What to do? I do not like going backwards once I have left a place and I also had told someone I would be in Panama City within two days. Reasoning that I am a highly skilled mountain driver and I was fresh at the beginning of the day, I said to myself, Let’s go for it.
For a few moments I had forgotten that I was driving in Central America, however, with its roads rutted like a war zone. As I got further and higher into the mountains the pot holes were more frequent and deep. And the rain pelted down with that wild abandon found only in the tropics. I can tell you that I regretted my decision then. I was thirty miles along that winding road, a raging storm had moved in, and I had some fifty miles to go. It seemed foolish to reverse my steps so I drove onward. I found myself thinking out loud, "this is really very dangerous." It was necessary to peer forward into the sheet of rain so that I could see to make the endless turns of the sinuous road. But at the same time, I had to keep my eyes pointed downward so that I could avoid the gaping pot holes rapidly appearing out of the fog. And then, only narrowly avoiding a head-on collision, I learned that I must also peer even deeper into the distance for trucks coming from the opposite direction. I like to think that I have extremely good peripheral vision and eye-hand reflexes because of all my hears of juggling training. Yet, four hours on that road with no windshield wipers tested my eyes and reflexes like no thing I have ever done before.
Coming into San Isidro, I tracked down a mechanic specializing in electrical problems. It is now ten o’clock in the evening, the van is parked within the mechanic’s garage, and I am wondering about all the mechanical problems I have lately been having. To put things in perspective, in the past three weeks I have spent only two days at sacred sites but twelve days at garages. It has also cost nearly $700 for repairs. Yes, its a hastle and sometimes I worry a bit about the money. But mostly, I accept all these difficulties as part of the pilgrimage process and as lessons in the great adventure of life.