The Finca

After sacrament meeting, we naively offered to drive one of the branch members, Cristofer Lopez, home. He said he lived on a "finca." We thought that meant he lived on the outskirts of town. It turned out this "finca," or "property" was located far away from town, not just our town, but any town! As our tires splashed through muddy creeks, skidded on stony inclines, and bounced along dusty trails, Trudy kept saying, "If we die, no one will ever find our bodies!" Guess what? We survived another adventure (thanks to our 4-wheel-drive vehicle). We were hanging on too tightly to take pictures of the worst parts of the road, but here are a few photos from along the way.

The most amazing part of this story is that Cristofer faithfully makes this journey every Sunday. Sometimes he is able to pay the finca owner to drive him, his wife and child to town in a truck. Sometimes they borrow a motorcycle. Sometimes Cristofer walks.

At first, the dirt road looked innocent enough.

It soon got more narrow and lead us over the top of a jungle mountain.

Switchbacks took us down to a remote valley.

At last we arrived at the finca.

Cristofer sat on a tractor and smiled as we
 turned around to trace our tire treads back home.