Snatches of conversation come through the window. “The battery is starting to charge, soon we will be able to move.”
“Shall I try it again?” John leans out the window to ask.
“No don’t, not yet. It hasn’t been long enough.”
The two soldiers wait halfway across the bridge. The Major joins them; they look at us and seem to be arguing. The first officer motions towards the trucks, nods and heads back across the bridge where he gets in the jeep. He backs it up and beckons a truck to pull up next to him. There is a brief discussion between men then the truck starts forward across the bridge.
The Major walks back to Bill. “I’ll give you five minutes, if you aren’t out of the way by then we’ll use that to push you off the road.” He gestures towards the truck that has driven onto the bridge. He turns walks back and gets in the jeep.
Bill tells John. ““We’ll wait until the last minute. If we keep trying to start the engine we’ll never get enough juice to turn it over. We must have been running on the alternator for a long time. That’s why it was giving me trouble back there.”
John Mc sneaks looks at his watch. Gil has gone back to sleep in my arms. Paul and John stare out the front window at the truck. No one says anything.
The truck slowly rolls towards us. I wonder will they give us time to get anything out.
“Try it now,” shouts Bill from the back.
John Mc turns the key. There are clicking whirring noises. The truck is within ten feet of us. Three soldiers get out of the back. They stand legs spread, arms crossed watching.
“Try again, keep cranking. If it doesn’t catch this time. . . .”
A sputter, a groan and then it is running. Thank God.
“Back it up, back it up, before it stalls again.” shouts Bill as he comes through the door. John puts it into reverse; the trailer is at an angle to the camper so it doesn’t want to back up. Bill comes flying in the door.
“Get out of the seat, let me sit down. NOW!” Bill pulls at John’s sleeve. “Come on before it stops again.”
He slams the gear into reverse, guns the engine, we move a little. But we’re still blocking the entrance. The truck moves even closer.
Dear God, they wouldn’t push it over with us in it would they?
“Mom I think they might push us all over.” John is echoing my thoughts.
“No, no they won’t.”
Pump the gas again - the engine whines, we move back a few more feet. The engine dies! Silence.
The truck is directly in front of us. Suddenly he veers to his right his right side wheels climb the side of the mountain - the truck just fits between the rocks and us. It tilts at a dangerous angle. But he makes it around us. The rest of the trucks follow. The jeep brings up the rear. As they pass the Major salutes. We all made it.
The taillights from the trucks are soon out of sight. Darkness and silence enclose us. With the spotlights gone it seems even darker.
John Mc is in the bathroom. Bill holds me and I hold the boys.
Randy has slept through everything.
“Guess I’d better start the generator again and see if we can get out of here.
“They would have let us get out first wouldn’t they?” I whisper as Bill lets go of me.
“I don’t think so; it had to look like an accident.” He whispers as he goes out the door to check on the batteries.
In the silence that follows Paul and John head back to the back bed, Gil is still curled up next to me.
I hear sounds from outside. Clinks, clacks and mutterings. We wait a while longer, fearfully watching the road ahead and behind, hoping we will not see any more headlights.
Finally the engine turns over and keeps running. John Mc gets back on the Honda and we are on the move again. The rain has turned into a fine mist and fog.
We can see a town in the distance as we approach it there is an all night gas station and parked in the lot is the BMW, the soccer van and Juan’s yellow and black car and John Mc. Bill pulls in.
They have decided to spend the night there as they are just too tired to go on. Robert tells us that Maynard and Frenchie have gone on as they are trying to make up time. Maynard said it takes forever to cross the border into Ecuador. The last time he did it took eight hours so he wants to be there when it opens.
So we stop here for the night. For some reason I feel I have to keep watch all night and get very little sleep. Randy never moves the entire night, the rest of the boys go to their own beds and settle in. Bill is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. I keep popping up and looking out the window at nothing to see.
As dawn breaks we start out again, everyone somewhat rested. This part of the trip was uneventful. The Pan American Highway was narrow but the scenery very pretty. We were coming out of the mountains and getting back into hilly country. Off in the distance we could see small buildings (houses?) brightly painted and built up on stilts.
(I wrote this section in present tense to give the true feeling of the incident.)
Chug. Sputter. Sputter. Silence. All the lights go out and we stop.
“Damn, I was right. It’s stalled.” Bill swears as he grabs the flash light gets up and goes out into the blackness. He heads to the rear to check the lights. Wiggles the connections.
The motorcycle turns and comes back, its headlight spot lighting Bill.
“What’s the matter?” “What happened?” John asks as he pushes his visor up and swings his leg over the bike.
Bill turns to him, “Go in and try to start the engine.”
John comes in - mud from the road dropping off his poncho. Without sitting down he turns the key. Nothing. He reaches across the seat with his foot and pumps the gas. Turns the key again.
The motorhome trembles as the engine turns over. It was running! Lights came on.
Bill climbs back in through the door “We shouldn’t be too far from Popayan. We’ll stop there until it gets light.”
I nod my head in agreement. This isn't any fun.
John goes out climbs back on the bike and pulls ahead.
“So what’s wrong? Did you get it fixed? I sure don’t want to be stuck out here! What was wrong?” I demand.
“It’ll be okay. Why don’t you go to sleep or be quiet?” Bill growls. “I have to pay attention to the road, or haven’t you noticed.”
I peer out the window as we make our slow progress.
Sputter………. Silence. We jerk to a halt. Ahead of us John has already crossed a narrow bridge; he stops and looks back. All our lights are out. We’ve stalled just at the entrance of the bridge. “SHIT!”
I yank my feet up out of Bills way as he turns and propels himself out of his seat and rushes out the door. It slams behind him rocking the coach.
“Mom, why are we stopped? Where are we?” Paul who’d been sleeping in back heads towards me and trips over Randy who doesn’t move. “Why’s Randy on the floor, is he dead?” He crawls on the seat with me.
“Whose dead?” John sits up. “Is that why we’re stopped? Someone’s dead?”
“Shss, No one’s dead, Randy’s asleep on the floor. Go back to sleep. Don’t wake Gil up.”
Bill comes to the window. His hair wet from the fine rain. I push it open. “Get the extension cords from under the sink and give ‘em to me. I’m going to try to charge the battery with the generator.
Tousled hair and sleepy eyed Gil crawls into my lap, “Why’s Randy on the floor, where’s Dad?” “I’m scared.” I cuddle him. He’s still sleepy warm and feels good on this cold bleak night.
“We just stalled. That’s all. Go back to sleep.”
“Mom? Mommy?” Paul nudges my leg and points out the front window. “There’s lots of lights comin’ down the hill.”
The generator starts. I jump. Hopefully it will be able to charge the battery
Across the bridge the first set of headlights has stopped. In the glare from the lights behind it I can make out what looks like a jeep. The trucks following it stop one behind the other. Suddenly glaring spotlights turn the night into day. They focus on us.
Squinting through the glare I see three men get out of the jeep and cautiously start across the bridge towards us. One is wearing a belted trench coats and cap. The light flickers off the insignia on the shoulders of the man in the lead. The other two are dressed in fatigues their trousers blousing out of their boots, large belts around their waists and beret type caps on their heads. Now soldiers are pouring out of the backs of the trucks; they carry automatic weapons that they point at us. This doesn't look good.
As he strides towards us the man with the bars on his shoulders is waving his arms and shouting,“QUE ESTAN HACIENDO AQUI!! MUEVA SU VEHICULO O YO LO MUEVO CON MI CAMION YA!!” Loosely translated it meant - “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? MOVE YOUR VEHICLE OR I’LL MOVE IT FOR YOU.”
Bill comes to the front of the motorhome his hands raised above his head. One of the soldier points his gun at Bill’s stomach. John Mc is right behind Bill arms away from his body, poncho and helmet dropping to the ground. The officer motions with his gun, “Move, get that out of here, back it up. NOW!”
In Spanish Bill answers: “We stalled. I’m trying to get it started. “We’re from the U.S.” My family’s inside.”
“Passports?” I’m already handing them out the window. The officer reaches up to take them and gives them to the soldier behind him who inspects every one of them looking up at the window when he gets to mine. He walks to the door, I open it and he comes in. Still holding the passports he checks the back and bathroom. Nods as he sees the kids. Hands them back to me and goes out. I quietly close the door. Inside no one is making a sound.
The Lieutenant is speaking “You have to move this now. You’re blocking the bridge and my trucks are filled with ammunition. We need to get across. Last week guerillas ambushed a convoy here. Move so we can get past.”
“Go in and try the engine John.” Bill accompanied by a soldier walks to the back.
John Mc comes in; pumps the gas and turns the key. Nothing.
“We’re charging the battery, it might take awhile.” Bill explains.
A fourth man gets out of the jeep and strides across the bridge. He wears high boots over his jodhpurs and an Eisenhower jacket, on his jacket the insignia of a Major, on his hip is a side arm. His hand rests on it. He motions for the two soldiers still holding their guns on us to go back to the jeep. They turn and start across the bridge every few steps looking back over their shoulders at us.
He walks to the open window. Eyes as black as his mustache peer in; he looks directly at John Mc and me. Nods and turns towards Bill. “GET THIS OUT OF HERE! YOU ARE ENDANGERING US! WE NEED TO KEEP MOVING.”
“Mom.” Johnny has come up front to join me. “Is Dad going to get shot?”
“Of course not! Everything’s going to be okay. They won’t hurt us. They know we’re not guerillas.” I hope I sound more convincing than I feel.
“Damn, I was right. It’s stalled.” Bill swears as he grabs the flash light gets up and goes out into the blackness. He heads to the rear to check the lights. Wiggles the connections.
The motorcycle turns and comes back, its headlight spot lighting Bill.
“What’s the matter?” “What happened?” John asks as he pushes his visor up and swings his leg over the bike.
Bill turns to him, “Go in and try to start the engine.”
John comes in - mud from the road dropping off his poncho. Without sitting down he turns the key. Nothing. He reaches across the seat with his foot and pumps the gas. Turns the key again.
The motorhome trembles as the engine turns over. It was running! Lights came on.
Bill climbs back in through the door “We shouldn’t be too far from Popayan. We’ll stop there until it gets light.”
I nod my head in agreement. This isn't any fun.
John goes out climbs back on the bike and pulls ahead.
“So what’s wrong? Did you get it fixed? I sure don’t want to be stuck out here! What was wrong?” I demand.
“It’ll be okay. Why don’t you go to sleep or be quiet?” Bill growls. “I have to pay attention to the road, or haven’t you noticed.”
I peer out the window as we make our slow progress.
Sputter………. Silence. We jerk to a halt. Ahead of us John has already crossed a narrow bridge; he stops and looks back. All our lights are out. We’ve stalled just at the entrance of the bridge. “SHIT!”
I yank my feet up out of Bills way as he turns and propels himself out of his seat and rushes out the door. It slams behind him rocking the coach.
“Mom, why are we stopped? Where are we?” Paul who’d been sleeping in back heads towards me and trips over Randy who doesn’t move. “Why’s Randy on the floor, is he dead?” He crawls on the seat with me.
“Whose dead?” John sits up. “Is that why we’re stopped? Someone’s dead?”
“Shss, No one’s dead, Randy’s asleep on the floor. Go back to sleep. Don’t wake Gil up.”
Bill comes to the window. His hair wet from the fine rain. I push it open. “Get the extension cords from under the sink and give ‘em to me. I’m going to try to charge the battery with the generator.
Tousled hair and sleepy eyed Gil crawls into my lap, “Why’s Randy on the floor, where’s Dad?” “I’m scared.” I cuddle him. He’s still sleepy warm and feels good on this cold bleak night.
“We just stalled. That’s all. Go back to sleep.”
“Mom? Mommy?” Paul nudges my leg and points out the front window. “There’s lots of lights comin’ down the hill.”
The generator starts. I jump. Hopefully it will be able to charge the battery
Across the bridge the first set of headlights has stopped. In the glare from the lights behind it I can make out what looks like a jeep. The trucks following it stop one behind the other. Suddenly glaring spotlights turn the night into day. They focus on us.
Squinting through the glare I see three men get out of the jeep and cautiously start across the bridge towards us. One is wearing a belted trench coats and cap. The light flickers off the insignia on the shoulders of the man in the lead. The other two are dressed in fatigues their trousers blousing out of their boots, large belts around their waists and beret type caps on their heads. Now soldiers are pouring out of the backs of the trucks; they carry automatic weapons that they point at us. This doesn't look good.
As he strides towards us the man with the bars on his shoulders is waving his arms and shouting,“QUE ESTAN HACIENDO AQUI!! MUEVA SU VEHICULO O YO LO MUEVO CON MI CAMION YA!!” Loosely translated it meant - “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? MOVE YOUR VEHICLE OR I’LL MOVE IT FOR YOU.”
Bill comes to the front of the motorhome his hands raised above his head. One of the soldier points his gun at Bill’s stomach. John Mc is right behind Bill arms away from his body, poncho and helmet dropping to the ground. The officer motions with his gun, “Move, get that out of here, back it up. NOW!”
In Spanish Bill answers: “We stalled. I’m trying to get it started. “We’re from the U.S.” My family’s inside.”
“Passports?” I’m already handing them out the window. The officer reaches up to take them and gives them to the soldier behind him who inspects every one of them looking up at the window when he gets to mine. He walks to the door, I open it and he comes in. Still holding the passports he checks the back and bathroom. Nods as he sees the kids. Hands them back to me and goes out. I quietly close the door. Inside no one is making a sound.
The Lieutenant is speaking “You have to move this now. You’re blocking the bridge and my trucks are filled with ammunition. We need to get across. Last week guerillas ambushed a convoy here. Move so we can get past.”
“Go in and try the engine John.” Bill accompanied by a soldier walks to the back.
John Mc comes in; pumps the gas and turns the key. Nothing.
“We’re charging the battery, it might take awhile.” Bill explains.
A fourth man gets out of the jeep and strides across the bridge. He wears high boots over his jodhpurs and an Eisenhower jacket, on his jacket the insignia of a Major, on his hip is a side arm. His hand rests on it. He motions for the two soldiers still holding their guns on us to go back to the jeep. They turn and start across the bridge every few steps looking back over their shoulders at us.
He walks to the open window. Eyes as black as his mustache peer in; he looks directly at John Mc and me. Nods and turns towards Bill. “GET THIS OUT OF HERE! YOU ARE ENDANGERING US! WE NEED TO KEEP MOVING.”
“Mom.” Johnny has come up front to join me. “Is Dad going to get shot?”
“Of course not! Everything’s going to be okay. They won’t hurt us. They know we’re not guerillas.” I hope I sound more convincing than I feel.
MOVE IT!
NOW!!
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