How appropriate that on day 31, exactly one month in, we had the most absurd day of Project:GoThere yet. It began as possibly the best day of our trip thus far. Waking up to a picture perfect sunrise at our incredible beach campsite in San Juan del Sur set the tone for a great day. The night before, we found an overlander-friendly beach that let us park our car and sleep in an open-air grass-roofed hut.
The day only got better when we drove to Playa del Coco (“playa” means “beach” for all you who speak as little Spanish as I do…). It was by far the most beautiful beach I’ve ever seen. The water was shockingly clear and two majestic cliffs bordered each end of this secluded paradise. The cliff on our right side, formed with warped rock layers on the open face with broccoli-esque trees for hair, was staring out at the eternal expanse that is the Pacific Ocean. The waves that we rode were the most quintessential National Geographic waves that I’ve ever laid eyes on. As the cherry on top, we hit that sweet spot of getting the perfect amount of sun without getting burnt to a crisp. Fast forward two military traffic stops, a million and a half potholes, and a washed out bridge that was being rebuilt. We started down what we thought was the road north to get back to the main highway and then on to border crossing #5 into Costa Rica. I say “thought” because there is no humane way to categorize what we were driving on as a “road”. It was simply a different genre of terrain to get a vehicle from one location to another. Our fearless drivers for the day, James and Karl, coaxed our four-wheeled “stallion” (Copyright: Karl Cassel 2017) to perform feats unfit for any Toyota Sequoia. We’re talking anything from small tree demolition to what seemed like vertical mudslide climbs. A quarter of the way through our jungle escapade, we were coming around a bend nearing the top of a hill. In a fraction of a second, we swerved to avoid a pothole that looked more like the abyss that took Qui-Gon Jinn and Darth Maul (may they rest in peace), and instead drove the entire right side of our car off a foliage-disguised 2-3 foot embankment bringing us to a lurching halt. We completely bottomed out with our axle, spare tire, and a few other generic car parts (none of us really know anything about cars) lodged into the rocky dirt. After several disheartening attempts to free her with a combination of 4-wheels spinning and 3 dudes pushing, we started to realize just how stuck we were. We started digging. We grabbed our little orange garden shovel (aka. the poop shovel) and a few sticks to start chipping away at the unforgiving earth. Crawling on our bellies under the car to dig at a better angle, we gave up all notion of cleanliness. Trying to avoid having to set up camp in the middle of the Nicaraguan jungle, we officially kicked into survival mode and chipped away at the dirt inch by inch like nobody’s business. Three hours later, we had drunk 50% of the emergency water in our rooftop carrier, but we could finally see from one side of the car to the other. We were ready to try it again. One tiny detail I forgot to mention is that our front right tire was less than 4 inches (like actually less than) from falling down a much deeper ravine which would have for sure flipped our car and sent it tumbling down a hill into it’s potential jungle grave. So, needless to say, stakes were high. After laying hands on the car and praying over it, we were ready to give it one last shot. Through a swirl of tires spinning, loose dirt flying, and exhaust smoke pluming in our faces, we rocked it back-and-forth 5 times until it had the boost of energy to bust out of the rut and back onto that forsaken “road”. I was screaming on the final two pushes. When it finally broke loose, I felt like I couldn’t even support myself. I was so physically and emotionally exhausted that I started hyperventilating for the first time in my life and broke into tears. Truly a miracle that we got out of there. Twenty kilometers, a river crossing, and a few more terrifying rut-infested mountain climbs later we emerged out of that jungle in our bruised but unbroken Toyota and spirits. We still had to play another game of bureaucratic pinball for two hours at the border crossing (at night now) and drive 5 hours to our hosts in San Jose, Costa Rica. We were supposed to arrive for a nice game of ultimate frisbee at 8pm as a great way to get some energy out and stretch our legs. Instead, we rolled in at 2am caked in dirt and smelling like stale sweat. Great times had by all. Thanks be to God for keeping us safe, keeping our car from any significant harm, and even keeping us on schedule to arrive in Costa Rica. Those are the types of days that you can’t plan for, but you have to expect. Moral of the story: Google Maps can’t always be trusted. - Krum
2 Comments
Carl Cassel
9/9/2017 09:37:01 am
Thanks, Krum and friends, for a great description of a difficult day. No wonder Gramma felt the need to pray for you. We're following as closely as we can---and loving it. Karl's Grampa and Gramma
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Jenn in GA
9/9/2017 02:01:13 pm
WOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!!!
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November 2017
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