Not So Minor Challenges

Today Carol and I went for our second adventure in the public ministry. Having learned well the lesson of casual dress, today I also ventured to wear informal cotton slacks because the wool dress pants I wore last time added unnecessary, even unmerciful warmth.

Our lesson today was how to perform a vertical ministry. We were introduced to the precipitous and endless slopes of Zihuatanejo. A partial photographic introduction to the general concept is furnished below. Multiply this stretch by a hundred and you get the idea. Residences, or more accurately rudimentary shelters, are to be found along either side of the steps on one's climb toward the clouds.

Carol worked with the same Mexican sister as last time (Mirsa) and I worked with Ivey Dowel who has lived here for one year so far.

Halfway up the incline the angle steepened and the stair risers grew to a foot high. This segment presented a formidable sight. There were no handrails of course and no stair landings behind us, so a fall could, at least theoretically, deliver a person back to sea level. Ivey and I recommended the sisters turn back and wait for us at bottom. They unhesitatingly agreed. Ivey and I pressed on.

The building of these steps could hardly be described as consistent and we found the higher we climbed the less attention was given to finer construction details. The following photo shows our path near the summit.

And this is yours truly savoring the high point of the day. Yes, the shirt is a tad moist. The smile is in amazement at having accomplished such a climb without rope and pick axes. A person can do two hours service in fifteen minutes in this territory.

Our search for English speakers among the Mexicans produced only two finds. Both conversations were clearly worthwhile and literature was gladly received. One man spends his days two weeks here, two weeks there, two weeks somewhere else, due to his livelihood, so we were happy to catch him available.

Then, on another long stairway further along, we worked our way back down. Here is my fellow mountaineer Ivey a quarter of the way along our descent.

Although Carol and I each toted a bottle of water, we finished them and at morning's end, back in downtown Zihuatanejo, we were warmly eager for a cold Coke. We found this prize in a restaurant called Bananas. The two Cokes cost a grand total of $1.60 and this surprisingly generous restaurant served them with a complimentary plate of bread, nachos, and two bowls of salsa. I was gobsmacked.

And so it goes.