Mechanical woes and the road to Oaxaca. Part 2.

Well, there was a minor incident when we stopped for coffee and couldn’t resist buying far to many lychees. But that is just your typical travelling incident.

_{Better than the cup of Nescafe that was on offer. Freshly picked lychees.}

We were high up in the mountains, well on our way to Santa Maria del Tule when the problem with the brakes returned. Rounding a corner, the brakes faded, the warning alarm was screeching—uh oh! The dashboard was forlornly flashing every warning light it could think of in an attempt to convey its dismay.

So what does one do in this situation? Miles from anywhere, high in a mountain pass, rock walls on one side, sheer drops on the other? Death waiting at every turn and a panicked warning alarm blaring?

Turn some Tom Petty on loud enough to drown out the warning alarm with a sing-along and hope it all gets better while you drive. Very, very carefully—of course.

It didn’t.

These are things we don’t like seeing when the 4Runner doesn’t feel like stopping on command:

This was our afternoon.

Ben cautiously wrangled the overloaded 4Runner in and out of sharp corners. Avoiding trucks, road hazards, topes (speed bumps), cattle and more. For seven long hours.

You can only go so fast when stopping is so hard to do.

All the while we held our breath wondering if the brakes were suddenly going to get worse. Would we lose any ability to even slow down as we rounded the ‘curvas peligrosas‘?

We wondered if it would be an easy repair.

We wondered if it would cost us several month’s budget to get back on the road.

We wondered if we were going to have to stop and camp on the side of the road and try to arrange a tow truck for the morning.

The clouds rolled in.

The chill in the air in the mountain passes made us crave comfort food. We soon realised we’d forgotten to eat anything all day— with the exception of several lychees and a disappointing Nescafe. We rolled to a cautious stop outside a road-side comedor perched high above the pine forest. Huddling close to our bowls of hot chicken broth, we contemplated the sinuous highway stretching out before us.

The afternoon wore on.

The sun sunk behind the mountains.

It had been seven very cautious hours of winding our way through the mountains of Oaxaca state. We were tired, we were bored of travelling at a snail’s pace. We were extremely excited about the prospect of not driving anywhere the next day.

We arrived at the gate of Overlander Oasis to the goofy, toothy grin of Morena. She is the resident ‘one-dog welcoming committee’. We immediately felt a sense of relief.

_{How could you resist that sweet, goofy, toothy, smile?}

The 4Runner had made it, we had arrived intact. Best of all—we could stop for a while and let our minds catch up with the preceding hectic twelve months of travel.

We were finally stopping—with or without brakes to assist in the process!

We rang the bell and to the gate came a smiling Canadian woman who said—”You’re just in time for supper”.

(Supper as it happens is Canadian for what Kiwis call ‘Tea’ and Americans call ‘Dinner’).

Whatever you call it, we found ourselves on the receiving end of some hot chicken curry and a goodbye cake for dessert. Edith, who had been staying there for a month, was leaving the next day. We had arrived mid-send-off.

We could not have been happier to have made it through the mountain passes and into the kitchen of Leanne and Calvin.

_{A kitchen full of friendly Canadians.}