Tierra Del Fuego

Day 8 - January 12

We left Zacatecas and headed towards San Miguel. It was 36 degrees with heavy fog at the time and my 5 layers of clothing was still insufficient - - 36 degrees at 80 mph – I hate to think what the windchill is. To make matters even worse, it was drizzling – the first rain we had seen.

We stopped for breakfast leaving Helge behind to reconnoiter good places to stay in Zacatecas. I took off a couple layers of clothes and switched to electrically heated clothing which provided much needed warmth to my hands and chest - - what a spectacular innovation – I’m so glad I brought them along. I was not able to take pictures during this time due to the cold or the camera being hidden under too many clothes or being unable to manage the camera with the bulky electrically heated gloves.
Roger successfully led us out of the city using his GPS but it was clear that we couldn’t let a day go by without getting lost. We headed overland, generally towards San Miguel, and soon arrived in this beautiful medieval looking city reminiscent of small villages in France and Germany. We followed the GPS to where Harriet’s house was supposed to be and found it to be only about 100 yards off.



We parked the motorcycles in a beautiful courtyard and went inside to see the splendor of Harriet’s San Miguel house. She has worked on it for nearly 25 years and it is a smashing success.



There are a number of beautiful rooms with fancy windows and six bedrooms each with a king size bed.



Fabulous detail – here is a tub which appears about 4 feet deep with magnificent tile.



And an architectural feature built into the house that looks down into a mini archeology discovery.



The house is horseshoe shaped with a beautiful garden in the middle. It surrounds another small house.






In the garden there is a large fountain that Harriet made which can be run with heated water and doubles as a bathtub.



Derek made the fitting comment that the house is very much like Harriet’s paintings with an enormous amount of detail, small alcoves with statues, a number of Harriet’s and other artists’ work scattered about, domed ceilings with elaborate brickwork and arches on four sides. The level of detail is far beyond anything that I would be capable of.



That evening we had drinks at Harry’s Bar – a hangout for ex-pats and other foreigners from all over. We stopped for dinner at a restaurant owned by one of Harriet’s friends and had a delightful time.



Helge ran into another adventure motorcycle guide and regaled us with old times. At 6:30 there was hardly a seat available in the place.


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