I put the gear in reverse, then made a large turn over a sandy surface. Before I could react, the car was sinking...
The engine screamed. The stench of Diesel fuel. Tires rumbled first in two-wheel mode, then in four-wheel mode, but the car didn’t move a millimeter. In brief, we were stuck.
“You see, I told you,” said Maureen with a grouchy tone and gave me a bad grin. “You can never trust these sandpits.”
I didn’t answer, opened the door and jumped into the sand, to see my feet sink some ten inch of soft, mellow, and wet sand. I walked around the car. The front wheels lay deeply buried in quicksand, and the chassis had sunk to the point that the motor block touched ground, too. No wonder the wheels wouldn’t even turn any longer. My car inclining to the left made me think of the drowning Titanic.
I glanced around. We were alone in the sandpit, some hundred yards from the road leading through the jungle, where occasionally a truck rumbled along. Why hadn’t I continued driving on the road? Yet instead I had risked our Sunday, our car in this god-forsaken sandpit, for the benefit of acquiring a few spurious rock data! I should also have bought a winch. Yes I should have…
“Oh, oh,” said Maureen, who stood next to me. “This will be very difficult.”
Sweat pearled on our faces. A merciless sun burned down from a tropical afternoon sky. “I’ll try with the shovel,” I replied with a morose voice. “Why don’t you seek shade under the cliff?”
Maureen walked over into the shade and sat down. I grabbed the shovel from the trunk, and dug around the front wheels, where sand had engulfed the entire engine block and axles. The back wheels stood on solid, yet somewhat slippery mud rock. I looked like our task was to get the front wheels free – the sand below the wheels would finally have to yield to solid ground, but when, and at which depth? But as much I shoveled, it looked as if the car was only sinking deeper, at a steady pace. I paused, and joined Maureen in the shade of an overhanging cliff. I leaned against the cool rock and felt my heart beating wildly. Only two hours of sizzling daylight left, I thought. Could we ever make it before dusk?
I closed my eyes and emptied half of the first water bottle- luckily we had brought ½ of a gallon with us, and listened to the noises around me. There was the buzzing of a fly, the sputtering motorcycle engine on the nearby road, Maureen’s heavy breathing, and the hissing sound of her spade hitting the sand. What a great country girl she was.
There were other sounds, too – like faint cries. I looked around and realized I wasn’t quite alone. A few yards away, a colorful rock snake uncoiled. She was at least 1.5 yards long, and with fascinating orange ornaments on her head. She had seized a gray lizard, was firmly coiled around it, and about to devour the unlucky animal. Some ants where attacking the shivering lizard’s tail, too. I went to the car, grabbed my camera, and walked back with Maureen. Together we watched the eerie spectacle. The gray lizard’s yellow eyes shone, alerted by mortal panic– there was no doubt its time was up. We both were fascinated by the unfolding drama, and the mesmerizing rainbow colors of the attacking snake. The whole scene seemed to be frozen in slow motion. It had an element of intimacy and even erotic. I made a few pictures.
“We better move on,” said Maureen, as she took a gulp from the water bottle. I nodded, and grabbed the spade. After another ten minutes or so I tried again to break free – a screaming engine, a burning rubber smell, but no progress.
“Up in our village, we use wooden planks. We push the wood under the tires,” she said and walked looking for suitable pieces of wood. I went back into the shade, and pondered about our situation. After a while, Maureen arrived with an armful of wood. We hammered it into the sand behind the wheels.
“If everything fails, we could stop a truck, and ask for help,” she said. I nodded – most certainly I didn’t like this option at all.
I started the car, and the tires seemed to seize grip, and move a little bit. I managed to have the wheels turned straight, in such way reducing further friction. Then, slowly, the wheels turned. With a grinding sound, the motor block freed it self from a sandy bathtub, and the car bounced backwards. We were free, at last.
A really exciting story!Travel writing really takes the reader into the core of the action.I felt as though I was Indiana Jones ,trapped in a wretched hole somewhere.
Anne Pawlak.
Reviewed by M. B.
2/3/2005
I found myself engrossed right from the first. *Deadly...* is a well crafted story that keeps the reader intrigued from the first to the last word. :)
Reviewed by Judy Lloyd
2/2/2005
This is very interesting and I am glad that the snake went after the lizard and not you guys.
A fascinating story and picture, Franz; and glad to hear you made it out of that sandpit.
Sort of reminded me of when I foolishly drove my car out onto a frozen lake to go ice-fishing, and the ice gave way. Luckily, a Good Samaritan came along with a winch to save the day.
This is the second novel in Frank P Ryan's acclaimed fantasy series, The Three Powers. The first in the series, The Snowmelt River, is a top ten epic fantasy bestseller on amazon.
My Colorado Journal continues with the Pambling Roads collection of US state journals, helping readers spark their interest with historical trivia and tidbits about Colorado. It's an interactive journal designed to nurture creativity and self-motivat
