Hope was fading now...I had reached the point where the will to live was almost gone. The narrow callejon and the twisting hand made concrete steps had sucked it out of me. My lungs were on fire, my knees were like mush. Pain, over all over, consuming PAIN. I had been lost now for over an hour. Climbing up and down the narrow alleys on this uber steep hill. The route I had taken down to the centro was now a faded memory. I leaned over the rocky wall trying in vain to catch my breath. This was it, I thought. There was nothing in the tank. The disappointment of reaching the very top staircase where my host's manager said, "it's easy from here", played over and over in my mind. I made it to that spot again with monumental effort. Only to be completely lost from there.
Of course this was the rocket scientist from New York, who saw me sitting in front of the Statue Pipila for over thirty minutes. Never in that 30 minutes did he make the connection that I might be the gringo with the moving truck full of shit, that he was waiting for. I had to go over and ask him.
Back to the story. Your mind runs through all kinds of emotions at the end. I was thinking of those Mount Everest guys and how similar our thoughts were. Except I never found that peace and crap. I was worried and scared of how the rats would treat me. I never knew a rum bottle, a diet coke, and a small container of milk could be so heavy. Should I drink the rum and just drift away.... Then I heard voices. A woman and a small child approached down the narrow gutter I was in. "Buenos tardes," she said as she passed. She then turned and said that I was going to right way... Down. NOOO. I summoned up the energy to tell her that I was lost and looking for some Irish guys B and B? "Oh, said smiling. She pointed down the fork of the path that I had not taken earlier. "Cerca", she said with a smile. How near I wondered. I willed myself to rise one last time and stumbled down the path. During my battle this afternoon, I tried without success to keep the strategy. "Never give up altitude". Going down again was a huge and perhaps final mistake.
Nothing, there was nothing but a dead end. Should this dirty little place be the end? With all my strength, I tried to gain my "other" final resting place again. One step at a time. Visions of blind and unknowing effort filling my head. Everest again, just above Camp 6, elevation 28, 754 ASL. One slow heavy step at a time. Some guy crossed himself as he passed me on his way down. Not a good sign. Hugging the corner I looked up a another set of uneven steps and saw the woman again. She looked at me and through the coughing spells , I could see her saying 'NO"?, I'm sorry. She came down to me and I tried to describe it again. CASA DERMOT or something. She thought and asked the woman she was talking to and they both started to smile. Not at the thought of taking my cash and milk when I died I hoped. The woman said she thought she knows now. She even offered to carry MY bag. Just give me a necktie and a doorway please. We made it to the top of those stairs and then she lead me down another alley. Even though it was downhill I tried several times to stop and die. She would not allow it. She even smiled back at me and said, "good exercise". We finally came to another tight alley and she pointed down. This was it for sure. I had a spot picked out at the bottom of this drop and that was it. Limping down, I realized this was it. She had a huge grin on her face as she waved. Wait, "I Love You", was the only thing I could think of in Spanish past Gracias. I would have offered her a kidney if I knew the word, how about putting your children through college. In a flash she was gone. Maybe I will run into the Patron Saint of the West Side of Big Ass Hill. Again. Tonight I am recuperating. Warm Rum with Diet Coke and Milk. The Angel of Death may still be near.
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