The Road to Baradères in the Rain

     The road to Baradères is worse. Yes, that is possible. Let me explain.

     Both Sister Denise and Father Jacques had warned me the day before we left Gressier that it had been raining pretty hard in Baradères. So we should take the road to Baradères from Cavaillon, not the road from Petit Riviere de Nippes. Sister Denise told me to be careful. The road was bad and be sure the vehicle has four-wheel drive and that the driver knows how to «doublé » (drive in four-wheel mode). So we turned south at Miragoâne and headed over the mountains to the south coast. The sun was shining as we drove through Fonds des Negres, Vieux Bourg d’Aquin, Aquin, and past the beaches of Saint Louis de Sud. We arrived in Cavaillon and I directed Patrick to turn off the highway and zig-zag through the town. Turn right at the market, left toward the church and then right again. Keep going straight until the road ends. And that is where the road to Baradères starts. We had another 90 minutes of driving on the mountain road before we would arrive in Baradères. I hoped.

     The clouds over the mountains ahead of us looked ominous. I began to worry. Rain was the second worst thing that I could imagine on this road. Rain and darkness was the worst thing. At least it was still mid-afternoon. Then it began to rain, only a little at first but soon the rain began to fall in torrents. The Patrol bounced along up the mountain road. And the rain continued to fall. We passed Bonne Fin and the Hôpital Lumiere. Normally the drive from this point to Baradères would take an hour. Not today, I thought. And the road gets worse from Bonne Fin.

     Up ahead the road was cut deep with muddy ruts and a large pile of mud and dirt sat in the road. Patrick stopped the Patrol. It was time to «doublé ». Patrick got out and unlocked the front wheels, jumped back into the Patrol and threw it into four-wheel drive. Patrick inched the Patrol forward into the mud. We stuck. Then he pushed it again and we made our way out of the mud. Up the mountain we continued. And the rain kept falling. Meer pointed out the window. I looked over and I could barely see the next ridge of mountains through the falling rain. I looked out the window on my side of the Patrol. I could see the edge of the road and clouds in the valley beneath us.

     On previous trips, I had seen many things on the road to Baradères: mototaxis, bicycles, tap taps, people, goats, cows, trucks, chickens, sheep, donkeys, and dogs. Today, I saw something new.

Boulder in the middle of the road to Baradères

We came around a curve and there in front of us was a huge boulder that had slid down the mountain and was now sitting in the road. This one had split in two leaving barely enough room for Patrick to maneuver the Patrol around it to get past. Fortunately, there was a passage barely wide enough for a single vehicle to get around it. Another foot to either side and we would probably have had to turn back.

     Further down the road, there was another boulder. Patrick drove the Patrol slowly and approached close to the edge of the road. I glanced down. Was it 40 feet or 400 feet? It really did not matter. If one wheel of the Patrol slipped over the edge, we would slide down the cliff and into the ravine. I tried not to picture the Patrol smashed up on the rocks at the bottom. Sister Denise told us later that a truck had gone off the road earlier in the week. She gave no details. I did not ask for any.

Water flooding across the road

     The rain kept falling and the road in front of us resembled a series of small brown lakes. Then I saw a muddy river, gushing across the road. Run-off from the mountains was pouring down into a stream that now overflowed across the road and then cascaded down into the ravine on the other side of the road. Patrick stopped the Patrol. The road beyond the flooded road pitched steeply upward. He gazed at the rushing water for a moment and then put the Patrol in gear. We edged forward toward the angry, muddy torrent. I suddenly thought about news stories I had heard about cars being swept away by floodwaters crossing a highway. How powerful was that stream of water in front of us? The front wheels entered the swirling water and the Patrol accelerated forward. We rolled through the water and sped up the slope on the other side. A veritable waterfall had formed at the side of the road funneling all the water across the road and down the mountain. But we had gotten safely across. 

Water flooding across the road

     The Patrol slowly wound its way up the mountain. We passed a yellow Camion Mack (dump truck) grinding up the road. It had stopped before a particularly narrow part of the road. The driver motioned for us to go around his truck. We managed to get through the narrow passage. As we continued on up the mountain, we all wondered whether the Camion Mack would make it (it did; we saw the truck in Baradères the next day). 

     Over two hours after starting on the mountain road from Cavaillon, we pulled into Baradères. The rain had stopped. Sister Judith greeted us as we got out of the Patrol. I introduced Patrick and Madsen (she already had met Meer). We went inside the convent where Sister Denise was waiting. We hugged, everyone sat down to eat and Sister Judith brought out four bottles of Prestige. I had traveled eight hours across Haiti and up a treacherous mountain road. I was ready for a beer.