This is my latest book and it will be published in serial form, chapter by chapter, in my blog, “Travels with Tio, a blind writer’s path to happiness.” - Tio Stib
dedication
for Maria and the good Mexican people who taught me how to love, to laugh, to dance with life
para maria y toda la buena gente mexicana que me enseño a amar, a reir y a bailar con la vida
Prologue
“Who’s driving the VW bus?”
Heads turned. the bar’s few patrons eyed the stranger silhouetted in the sun baked entry. Seeing nothing of notice, the heads regressed to drunken oblivion.
Except for her.
Cradling an empty glass, she considered the solitary figure with the long shadow in front of her. Finally, the woman at the bar casually replied, “Me.”
The shadow came forward. It grinned.
Two smiles studied each other.
She, a cherubic face with playful eyes under a rumpled cowboy hat, a long, dark haired pony tail draped over one shoulder, a flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, brown arms an hands that knew work. Then, faded jeans, scuffed knees, and well worn boots.
He. A deeply tanned face with soft blue eyes, unruly sandy hair under a bleached Chicago White Sox baseball cap. His grey “Property of San Francisco City Jail” t-shirt was stained and riddled with holes, much like his khaki shorts. Below these, two strong legs sprung from boots that had done a lot of walking.
The grin prompted, “Can I buy you a beer?”
Her smile brightened, her eyes twinkled.
“Sure.”
“My name’s Sam.”
“Mine’s Sophia.”
***
His bare arm stretched out the open car window. He turned his hand and cool midnight air blasted across his face. He looked over. There she was, hands thumping on the steering wheel.
She turned and smiled at him.
Two dreamers rocketing towards a laughing moon, riding on Cat Stevens “Peace Train”-
“Out on the edge of darkness
There rides a peace train
Come on, take this country
Come take me home again”
***
His eyes opened. Peeking out from inside the sleeping bag, he wondered, what were the clouds in front of his nose?
Jeez, must be cold.
There was a soft moan beside him and he felt her warmth snuggled against him.
He remembered.
They’d left the road, bounced through a forest of towering cacti. until Sophia turned off the key. The VW bus coasted to a stop. In front of them, the pale edge of the moon flickered and slid below the horizon.
“Listen,” she whispered as silence reached through the windows and hugged them.
Then she leaned over and kissed him.
***
Later, she nudged him from climactic bliss, “Come on, I want to show you something.”
Crawling from the sleeping bag, sam fumbled for his boots.
“Careful,” she cautioned, pointing her flashlight at his boot, “shake it out.”
As he did, a small creature fell to the ground and menaced its angry tail at him.
“Scorpion. They don’t like to be stepped on.”
Eyes wide open now, he thoroughly shook the other boot before putting it on. Then he stood and followed Sophia’s light into a world that had come alive.
She knelt down. “Look at this.”
Sam saw nothing but squiggles in the sand.
“Sidewinder.”
He jumped back. “A snake!”
She laughed, “Long gone.” Then, shining the light forward, Sophia added, “But she’s not.”
He followed the beam fixed on a small furry creature.
Puzzled, Sam asked, “What kind of dog lives in the desert?”
“It’s not a dog, it’s a female tarantula.”
Sam shuddered, focused on the many legged creature locked in the light, “And you know it’s a female because?”
“Because she’s so big. The males are much smaller. Some females are cannibalistic and eat the males. I used to have one as a pet.”
“Really.” Sam paused, wondering just what he’d jumped into by hitching up with this woman.
“She was very affectionate,” Sophia added, moving closer to the giant arachnid, which suddenly scuttled away.
A shriek stabbed the darkness.
Sam bolted into Sophia, “What…”
The flashlight followed scuffling sounds to the right. Then two green eyes stared back at them. Dead rabbit in mouth, the coyote came out of the bushes then loped away to eat his meal in peace.
Yes, Sam’s brain was wondering, just what have I gotten into? The world he thought was asleep was very much awake.
He watched as little creatures hopped in front of them.
“Kangaroo rats,” she noted.
Then something, silent as a ghost, swept through the light and grabbed a rat in mid air.
“Whoa, don’t see that every day,” she observed, “an owl taking its prey in flight.”
Speechless, Sam clutched Sophia’s arm with both hands. There seemed to be a lot of animals eating other animals out here.
Reading his mind, she clasped his face in her hands and gently kissed his lips, “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”
He took a deep breath. In spite of Sophia’s odd pet, he was beginning to believe her.
“Where’d you learn all this?” he asked as a chorus of cicadas enveloped them.
“My dad, he was born here, the desert was his favorite place. He loved to take me out on flashlight adventures. I miss him.
She stopped. “Do you hear that?”
Above the din of the cicadas, something between squeals and grunts. They crept ahead.
Suddenly the noise stopped. The flashlight found six pair of eyes fixed on them.
Sam thought the small round bodies looked familiar. “Pigs?” he asked.
“Not quite, but a wild relation,” said Sophia, “these are peccaries, very smart.”
“I suppose you had one of those for a pet too.”
“Not for long. We ate him after he trashed Mom’s garden.”
With this second reference to dominant female behavior, Sam cautioned himself to stay on the right side of this one.
Unconcerned with their audience, grunting and wiggling their curly tails as their tusks rooted the ground, the little foragers continued searching for food.
Under a blanket of shimmering stars, sam and Sophia faced each other, their breath clouding the space between them.
They both spoke-
“It’s cold!”
***
“Do you speak Spanish?”
“Sort of,” he replied.
“Good, that will help.”
“Help with what?”
“Mexico.”
After these early morning words, Sam found himself riding down a broken, empty road in Baja, Mexico, with a woman he’d met in a bar the day before.
He looked over. Sophia was gaily singing to a song blasting from a Mexican radio station.
“What does Ynes mean?” he asked.
No response, the driver kept on singing. Sam turned down the volume and asked again, “What does Ynes mean?”
This time, the singing stopped and she looked at him.
“Ynes?” she repeated.
He’d seen the word painted on the side of the bus.
She smiled and began, “Ynes Enriquerrta Julieta Mexia.”
There was a pause, then Sophia continued, “Ynes Mexia was a Mexican American botanist. She was an independent, strong willed woman who found her calling late in life. In her short career during the early twentieth century, she collected over 150,000 specimens on trips from Alaska to Peru, often traveling alone in extreme circumstances.
Sophia turned to look at Sam, “Ynes is my hero. I’m following in her footsteps.”
He had seen dozens of plant filled containers behind them, “And how goes the journey?”
She laughed, “I love plants but I don’t have the patience to be a botanist.”
They rode on in silence, nothing moved outside their bubble, everything baked dry by the searing sun.
She broke the spell, touching his shirt. “Were you really in jail?”
“No, but there were times I should have been.”
He smiled, thinking back, “This shirt reminds me that there are many kinds of jails, and the ones without bars are the worst.”
She looked at him curiously.
“A job that starves your soul is a jail,”
He paused, then looked at the curious face under the cowboy hat, “I love journalism but I’m looking for a place where what I write really makes a difference, helps build a better world, doesn’t just give headlines to the jerks who make the most noise.”
“Sounds like you’re a bit of a romantic.”
“I like Gandhi’s notion of being a practical idealist.”
***
Floating through parched, rocky hills in stifling heat, Sophia suddenly pointed and screamed,
“Super wow!”
There, in the midst of barren desolation, lay a field of glittering gold.
The sky blue bus with the chartreuse roof veered onto a rutted track and was swallowed by a sea of sunflowers, bright yellow waves rolling gently down the hillside to a diamond studded river.
Birds, bees, butterflies, the cacophony of Nature’s bliss surrounded them.
Time stopped. the travelers smiled.
Things were sorted. A blanket, a loaf of bread, a block of cheese, a bottle of wine.
In a garden of ecstasy, they ate, they drank, they loved.
Afterwards, they jumped, gasping, into the frigid water. Then let the warm sun melt them into oneness.
Lovers lost in paradise.
***
Far to the east, the morning sun inched above the horizon as a new day dawned. Exiting their garden of Eden, the bright blue vehicle paused.
They considered the road ahead.
To the right.
Nothing.
To the left.
A sign.
“Puerto Cielo.”
“Puerto Cielo,” he said, “what does it mean?”
She answered, “The gateway to heaven.”
Ynes turned left as the music of Cat Stevens welcomed a new day-
“Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world”
***
To be continued-
Copyright 2024 Tio Stib
