I thought there was a bridge!

As the sun sank ever lower, and the roads became increasingly more dangerous, our jeep to Beni began to slip and slide up and down the hills to try and reach our destination. We had been traveling for roughly four hours when all of the sudden we heard the all-to-familiar sound of rubber losing traction. Back and forth, back and forth, our driver frantically tried to dislodge our tires from the tightening grip of the muddy terrain below. Without prevail most of the passengers jumped out of the jeep and with haste began rocking the jeep to push it from the earth’s grip. With mud flying in every direction, we managed to get back on the road.

We were finally making good time when we began hearing the roaring sound of the mighty river, growing louder and louder as we came upon it. As our driver forced the jeep up the hill, he suddenly realized that the bridge was no more and had to hit the brakes to avoid toppling over the apex of the mound.

Flash lights out, he and a few of the passengers looked for a way to traverse the raging water without success. This forced us to backtrack to a small, quaint village in which we began banging on doors, honking our horn, and yelling until someone opened their door to accept us since it was past 11pm. Soon we saw our quarters for the night in what could only be described as a unique hotel, but even though its appearance was disheartening it offered us with a warm, mostly bug free, and dry place to lay our heads.

The hospitality of the woman became even more apparent as she prepared tea for us the following morning and made sure that we were set for the rest of our journey. Our morning would include watching a land bridge be constructed to allow vehicles to cross the quick flowing torrent to safety. With that miraculous event, and the terrifying process of passing through a fast moving, thigh-high level river, we were finally able to arrive in Beni, which in itself is a whole other story.