La Mocora

Don F and Sra. A live in La Mocora, so on April 24, Jill and I made the hike in to their casa with don F coming to Las Mercedes to pick us up and guide us in.  

"Wear boots," they said.  So we did.

Dear, dear don F carried both Jill's and my backpacks for the 40-or-so-minute hike from the main road to the house.

Hello.

Hello.

Do you like my hat?

I do not like that hat.

Oh.  Well.  Neither do I really.  

It started off so simply.

Swinging bridge

A little more rugged

A little steeper

A little snakier

A little muddier

Watch your step!!!

You could about drown in some of those.

Well, not quite, but you could probably sink up to your knees, at least, in some places.

A little bushier

Hot but happy

F & A have a beautiful yard.

Looking at the house from the road

Looking into the kitchen

Jill's room

My room

Outdoor oven

Drying cacao

The facilities

The cat is thirsty.

The hike back out

The following pictures are taken after "The Incident."

But wait, let me tell you the story.

As typically happens when we are in a place bound in by dirt trails, it poured rain in the night.  The result of this, of course, is more mud - deeper mud, squishier mud, slipperier mud, muddier mud.  Don F again shouldered our burdens, and we set off with only a walking stick apiece to tie up our hands.  Things went well (squishy but well) until we got to a certain part of the trail.  There was a little creek that we had to ford, and the bank was particularly gooey.  Jill was ahead of me and went for the straighter course.  I waited and watched.  Alas, both of her feet got stuck in the mud, and unable to retain her balance, she sat.  One nice thing about mud is that it's pretty soft.  Don F tripped merrily over to help Jill to her feet.  (Somehow the mud didn't seem to affect him like it did us.)  After seeing my co-worker sitting prettily in the muck, I decided to take a different path down to the creek.  Perhaps a little to the right would be better.  Except it wasn't really.  I also ended up with both of my feet stuck in the mud.  I had the advantage, however, that at least I was planted in a position that would enable me to keep my balance and hopefully, upright.  My left leg was about a foot to a foot and a half from my right leg and slightly behind.  Wiggle, wiggle the left foot.  That boot is not going anywhere.  Wiggle, wiggle the right foot.  Likewise.  Don F was otherwise occupied with my fallen co, so I surveyed my options.  About six inches or so to the right of my right foot, there was a thin strip of cane.  I decided to remove my left foot from the imprisoned boot and try to balance with my right foot still stuck in the mud and my left foot crossed over it and sitting on the narrow cane.  In that somewhat precarious position, I leaned back as far as I could to try and remove my left boot from the mud when.... "¡No, no, señorita!"  Don F came scurrying over to assist me.  "Let me get that so you don't fall over too!"  Probably a safer idea.  Boot freed, I reinserted my foot and squished on.  We made it back to the main road without further major incident.

    

Can you tell that the back of J's skirt has been slightly re-designed?

My boot line

The boots

A close-up of the back of Jill's skirt

Here are a few pictures from the other "camera" that I don't feel like going back and putting in the correct chronological order.  You can likely figure it out.  :-)

Also, sorry if there are repeats.  Time is not permitting me to go through and make a more thorough sort.  Thanks for understanding.  :-)

Taken while I was lying on my bed

Maybe this gives you an idea why we need to use mosquito nets.  House construction doesn't exactly block out such unwanted guests.

My bed enveloped in its toldo