I was supposed to leave San Miguel de Allende this morning, but I’ve lingered an
extra day. Thanks to the
busy afternoon with Shelley yesterday, my two goals for this city hadn’t been met.
First, I STILL hadn’t figured out the correct
exposure settings to take good photos of this city’s incredible light and
beauty!
Second, I needed to come to terms with some big doubts about
my trip that have been bothering me for days.
Fortunately, a day of solitude walking at random and taking photos
is also a good way to get some thinking done.
And the thinking preoccupied me so that I just let photos call to the camera
and didn’t worry about it.
Click.
In Mazatlan a veteran traveller pulled me aside and told me
flat-out that my Miata wouldn’t make it to Tierra del Fuego. And, he added, when it did break down I would
be effectively stranded for lack of parts.
His words rang true against a certain wall of ignorance that I’ve been willfully
maintaining. My lovely Pepin has come
this far without the slightest complaint, but I’ve been roadstering on dreams:
I’m carrying neither spare parts nor the slightest car repair skill. Case in point: Pepin is due for an oil
change, and without knowing Spanish, anyone to recommend a good mechanic, or
how to evaluate the gaping-door junkyards that pass for garages here, it’s a dubious
task even to get that done. (There’s a
Grease Monkey in Queretaro that’s my best bet).
Click.
Most overlanders who choose this road are car-handy enough
to overhaul their own engines if need be; not only is it practical, but it adds
a dimension of love and interaction to their experience. In contrast, my lack of those skills
translates into a constant formless worry that alienates me from the very road
I’m trying to enjoy.
Click.
So I’m looking at a Plan B: stay in Mexico. Scrap the larger trip and take more time to
explore this amazing country, including parts I was planning to skip like the
Yucatan and the Atlantic coast. Mexico
is enough of a car country that repairs are possible, and if a part needs to be
ordered, it’s not THAT far to send. And
there’s certainly plenty to see here.
Click.
Now, I hate to make decisions from fear. It feels wrong to default on my grand
ambition before anything has actually gone wrong. But I have a sort of Plan C.
Click.
Come Fall, I could park the Miata somewhere and fly to
Buenos Aires and Patagonia on a standard package tour. Those are the places I most want to see, and
it would be a cheaper way to get there (shipping Pepin around the Darien Gap is
a huge expense), not to mention a safer, and perhaps a more social and fun way
as well. Plus, I’d get to keep my Miata.
I would miss seeing Peru, though; that would suck.
Click.
I had managed to walk myself obliviously several miles out
of town, to the point where I was totally lost and the only way back was to
retrace my steps. So as the long
solstice evening fell I headed back.
I don’t need to make the big decision now—but actually I
do. Because I have a Plan D.
Click.
A month’s pause would also give me time to actually ADDRESS
the fear issue: order some spare parts from the States, maybe learn a few car repair
skills if I can find a teacher. At the
end of the month I might find that I’m ready to risk the road to Tierra del
Fuego after all.
So there you have it: major changes to the plan are afoot. Whatever I do, it was good to pull these thoughts
out and confront them. And what do you
know—I found my wandering way back into town just as that golden sunset light
was falling.
Click.
Matt, you should look into taking a course in Guanajuato. First of all, it's a gorgeous town (Unesco World Heritage). I googled the name plus "language school" and a whole bunch of hits came up. I think taking a course is a great idea, by the way. Don't hang out with the people in your class because you will end up speaking English.
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