Night Bus To Arequipa

It’s 05:50; I woke up because the bus has stopped. How long? I look at my watch; we must be close. Why are we stopped? A light fog obliterates any definition between the ocean and the sky. I’m perched on the second story, last seat, right in front of the bathroom (worst place to be on the bus).

The sky has just enough light that I can see the churning waves of the Pacific crushing into the craggy cliffs 150 feet or so below us. Clusters of stunted islands rupture the sea at sharp angles as if inside the mouth of a mad shark with bad teeth. I have to press my face against the window to see the sliver of mountain road between our bus and certain death should the bus move even a foot to the right. 

A steady line of tractor trailers and buses inch past, moving north opposite us on a narrow Pan American Hwy. As it brightens we begin to move south again on the winding coastal road. Where at the top of a hill and I see a continuous line of traffic is stacked up in front of us, literally no breaks, truck after truck and then a bus or two for as far as I can see. The fog lies just under the road, I imagine the heat from all the exhaust is keeping it at bay. The stewardess informs us that an accident ahead is causing the delay but seams confident we won’t be to late arriving in Arequipa. From the bits and piece that I understood a car had crashed and caught fire. North and south traffic is being rotated in 20 minutes intervals. I think we’ll find out in 1km, so at this rate, an hour or so. Ok so there was no car on fire but there was a gasoline truck on its side, leaking. A water truck was pumping water in what is likely an attempt to dilute the gasoline. I didn’t see any rescue personal and it looks like the truck had been there awhile.