Waiting behind a sheet of rain draining off the roof of a small tienda were a group of stranded travelers.
â€œIt is far too dangerous to cross right now, please wait for the bulldozer.â€� Somebody offered, even stepped aside to make room under the shelter.
It was true.Â Rocks were continuously tumbling down, some encouraging smaller slides to pile up against the mass of earth slowly taking over the final piece of road.Â We waited for about five increasingly uncomfortable minutes; our clothes of course dripping wet, our bike shorts like soggy diapers.Â Rocks kept scrambling down the sloppy earth.
Against their wishes I decided to go for it.Â I backed around to get some momentum, hoping to get through the slide as quickly as possible.Â A path large enough for a motorcycle or bike remained, but was filled with boulders, larger than my head.Â Smaller stones sunk below the huge flooded puddle that marked the path to follow.
I watched the rocks sliding down from the very top and started pedaling across, trying to time my entrance as cleanly as possible.Â Once in the slide, I could no longer watch the falling rocks, as I had to pay attention to the technical riding in front of me.