Everyone has bad days—days that seem to go downhill from the moment your eyes open in the morning. I’m learning that these kinds of days can often lead to some interesting adventures here.

Last week, another Samaritan’s Purse staff member and I were visiting the village of Huanacamaya, where we were planning to install a well. But when only one community member showed up, we had to call off the construction. All of our beneficiaries are responsible for the manual labor required, and if they don’t fulfill their part of the bargain, we can’t in good conscience do ours. We rescheduled the well installation and headed for a town nearly an hour-and-a-half away to do some much-needed work there.

On this particular day, the skies opened and dumped rain on the path in front of us. Although it is technically Bolivia’s rainy season, I have seen very little precipitation since my arrival. And I quickly learned that when a good amount of rain mixes with the altiplano’s pitted and rough-hewn double-track roads, it can make even a short journey difficult.

And so we fishtailed down these paths, leaving a rush of mud splatter and blue diesel smoke in our wake. It didn’t take long for us to sink into this sticky muddy mess. After 15 minutes of digging our pickup out of the axle-high muck, we were finally able to continue on our way. Thirty minutes later, we were stuck again.

After two hours of digging, jacking up the front of the truck, and placing rocks beneath the tires, we were able to get out. At this point, Miguel and I just looked at each other and understood our unspoken mutual thought: “There’s no way…”

With that, we turned around. Ten minutes later we were stuck in a creek crossing that had been easily passable only two hours earlier. More digging. More maneuvering.

At this point, it was well past sunset. We were exhausted, cold, wet, and covered from head-to-toe in mud. It was with a prayer of relief that we pulled into the largest village in the area, tired, and in need of food.

The sole restaurant in town had only bread, coffee, and an egg to offer. We were willing to eat anything at this point and eagerly accepted. At the end of the meal, I made a disheartening discovery—my new cell phone was missing.

So we backtracked along the same treacherous path, in search of a needle in a haystack at night with only a small flashlight. We eventually found the cell phone, much to the relief of my pocket book.

At 11 p.m., we finally reached the staff house. I went to sleep knowing that the next morning we would do the same thing again—enduring dangerous roads to bring clean water and the Good News of God’s love to rural villages.