It was a five hour midway ride on a road narrower than the Forks of the Credit and without shoulders. Sometimes the road had sunk and collapsed -- sometimes chunks had fallen off to the valley below. Gads. There were signs all along the way. "Danger," "Slow Down," and "Road Washout." There was even a sign that said, "No Parking on the Curve." As if.
But before the sun set, the mountains and valleys were gobsmacking. All green and rolling as far as the eye could see. We passed hundreds of homes and a few towns along the route. Most were makeshift affairs -- looking as though the builder had gone out for lunch and had forgotten to return. Lots of corn patches and banana trees.
Almost every home had a sign advertising Coca Cola, juice, purses or beads. After the sun set, the driver put his brights on. We had front row seats to the show and for two and a half hours my eyes were glued to every washout and precipice. Sometimes we passed large trucks bigger than our bus. I wondered which one would roll over first.
The photos are taken though the window as we jolted along.
Off to bed now. The ruins tomorrow.
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