Part one
Part two
There was a light misting rain beginning as they dropped out of the elevations. For the first time she decided to take the toll road, a decision she cherished as soon as they rolled out onto the smooth pavement and wide open spaces. Less truck traffic, higher speeds, and what looked to be like green service trucks helping motorists here and there. There was urgency now in her travel, more than before. Darby would know what to do, who to contact for her computer ills. Jake pulled up the map, "Mom, the split is ahead, are we going to leave the 54 toll road for the 80 direct route, or keep on this one to La Manzanilla and head back north a little on 200?" The rain pelted harder on the soft top, and a few drips started coming through into the back seat onto her guitar case.
"I'm not going to push our luck, kiddo. If wasn't raining, I'd chance the unknown, but I've heard horror stories about Mexican roads in the rain. And quite honestly? I'd rather roll up the coast and see the Ocean. I swear I can already smell it in the rain." She wasn't sure if it was nervousness or just butterflies of excitement bubbling under her skin; the Ocean always called her like a lover. It was hard to keep her foot out of the pedal now, and she wondered if their toll roads timed you like US ones and would fine you for speeding at the other end.
About an hour into it, the clouds broke, and the vista was amazing. "Jake, look, its a freaking volcano!" She squealed with delight. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know where Imma gonna go, when the volcano blow, Mr Utley...bada da da duh..." Her kid looked at her like she had lost her marbles.
"Its a Jimmy Buffet song."
"Spare me, please!" They both laughed, and by the third verse, he was singing with her. Enthusiasm is infectious, after all.
Colima came and went; she resisted the urge to stop there and see the volcano closer. On the lam and tourista didn't always blend well.
The scenery was stunning, with rolling rises surrounding savannas and farmland. As they worked there way South, deep gorges made her pulse race a little as they passed over them. Somehow, she had thought that the elevation had dropped when they started out this morning, but apparently without noticing they had worked their way back up into them.
The soft humid air hit her and it was unmistakable now. The Ocean. How in the world could it always smell like home to her, when she had lived inland her entire life and only visited it twice? The Great Lakes and millions of small lakes in Michigan had always fed her soul, but this was orgasmic by comparison. She pulled off and put the top down again, excited like a little kid when they hit 200 north.
The next half hour was unbearable. "Where is it, where is it already?" Jake would look at the map, and tell her to be patient. "There's a bigass peninsula, Mom, we won't see it, I think, until we are past La Manz." A little further, and a saltwater lagoon appeared. She got a shiver. The road meandered more than a drunk on an obstacle course, as the anticipation built in them both, craning their necks for their turn off towards El Rebalsito. Who knew? It was plainly marked, and there was a little hut, palapa, if she recalled correctly, adorned with flowers at the intersection.
Her mind raced. No phone, no way to call Darby and friends and say she was coming. "I suppose the only way was to stop in town and ask where her farm is," she thought to herself. The thought made her nervous, for some reason. She passed one other small town, and knew El Reb was next. She tried desperately to remember every word, every image her friends had written. Rose, who lived part time in San Miguel de Allende, whose pictures graced her Salon page. Willie and Marilyn, who camped with Darbie at times. The details that would help her either stumble onto it alone, or perhaps a flicker of recognition of a building that would say "friends be here." Its not like they weren't used to gringo touristas there, nor Norte Americano ex-pats. But as devastated as that town had been financially? They owed her nothing, and a few pointed words to a US spook could be very lucrative.
"It seems to me she lived toward the river Jake, do you see one on the map?"
"Yeah, Ma, if you take the first dirt road right before town, it kind of parallels it."
It dead ended, with no sign of "Camp Darbie" in sight, so they backtracked and took the last intersection south toward the beach. No one looked at them with particular interest, yet she was still loathe to ask. Finally a few young girls were walking down the road. "Ask, kiddo, and smile your best."
"Donde Camp Darby?" He asked, hoping they would understand them, flashing every bit of dimples he could. They started giggling, typical 14 year olds in the face of a 16 year old's interest. "Por favor?" He added, brushing the blond hair out of his blue eyes, and looking up at them from a slightly lowered face. The boldest one, all legs like a growing colt stepped closer and started to speak to him, pointing and grinning. "Lento" He implored, "Hombre estupido, hermosa..." dragging the last syllable out slightly. She got the stupid guy part, but had no idea what the last word meant, only knew it worked.
Another back track, a few rough bounces on the slightly rutted road, and she recognized it. They pulled in elated. Finally a place to regroup. Better yet, after almost 2 years of being dispossessed of their beloved Playa Tenacatita; the locals once again collectively had their beach back from the robber baron who had thrown them off of it. This was another issue she had written about, helped raise money and awareness about. It was a place that held her heart before she had even let a trickle of its sands whisper between her fingers.
The screen door rattled as she knocked and called out, "Darby?"
Her son behind her slightly, she beamed with joy as the woman she had only met in pictures and font appeared in front of her. "DARBY! Its Diane!"
"Oh. NO! Fuck!" The woman stopped cold. "You have to get out of here. Did anyone see you come in?"
Not quite the greeting she expected; her elation turning to a cold stone in her stomach. Tears rose to her eyes, "Only a couple girls a little younger that my son walking this way two turns back."
Darby pointed back into the grove of coco's and mangoes. "Follow that two track back until it gets thick, pull off as far into it as you can get that jeep. Stay there. Don't move until I get back. Right now, you two are screwed." She climbed into a truck and shot gravel as she sped away.
They had already beaten her here, she surmised, the tears overflowing now. Her son looked at her questioningly. "Get in." She pulled into the thick creeping along the almost-a-road to not raise dust. She saw a decent low canopy, pulled under it, and pulled up the jeep top again, grateful once again for the dirt-brown faded color of the thing.
Nothing about this felt good, but it was time to choke back the tears, wipe off the sweat and get ready for anything.