Colombia was filled with adventure, excitement, fear, sadness, hope, relief, and a new found perception of how precious life can be. Rachelle’s injury naturally created doubt and caused us to question our plans for the remainder of our travels. One thing was certain, we must return to San Jose del Cabo in order to get our home, The Rambler, out of the airport storage, silently hoping it was still there. The idea of driving back north to the States was short lived as Rachelle would have crawled out of her skin if she sat back in a cold, winter climate not being physically able to participate. And really we didn’t have a home back in Utah or South Carolina. Of course both Rachelle and my parents would welcome us with open arms, however our home was where we parked it. Broken back or not the comfort of home was currently parked in a storage lot near the San Jose del Cabo airport in Baja Sur.
We were blessed to have help from the interior of Mexico. Our amigo, hermano, comrade, maestro, jefe, primo; Señor Victor Zambrano. This man has a cousin in every town of Mexico and was instrumental when language and distance impeded our ability to plan parts of the trip. When it was time to book a ferry in order to make the portage from La Paz (on Baja) to Topolobampo (mainland Mexico) somehow Victor managed to reserve a cabin for the 9 hour trip along with transport of the Rambler for less than just the Sprinter transport was advertised online. It must have been his accent when he talked to the call center.