Mendoza is a significant wine producing region. The city did indeed look quite appealing, some old Spanish colonial architecture still in evidence and with a nice central square and an arts museum. However, like so many places here it was devastated in the 19th C by a huge earthquake. Quite a large city, but worth exploring. Mendoza, the person, was one of the Spanish conquistadores who was hailed a hero and then later a butcher because of his treatment of the Indians. However, it is interesting to note, that the ancient Indian culture that existed in the area was not the Incas that Mendoza encountered. The Incas in the 15thC had come down and slaughtered the indigenous people, then later the same century the Spanish had slaughtered the Incas.

By his time we were absolutely melting. We managed a stop at the square, a stagger to the nearest café and some cool drinks and then as a small relief against the heat we were off again.

From Mendoza we were heading up to San Juan on the famous Rn40 (books have been written on this road and we have been on and off it a number of times) for the night. We crossed the arid scrub. I remember the lady at the little Estancia so long ago saying that it took 2 hectares to support 1 cow, but nearer the lusher Chilean border you could support 1 cow for 1 hectare. I hate to think how many hectares per cow here!

Dust devils or mini twisters were visible at the side of the road, we just hoped they didn’t come near. The whole place seemed so arid, yet there were markers at the side of the road indicating how high the water got? It didn’t make sense.

We passed some very home made houses, piles of mud bricks for the next extension/repair baking in the sun. Corrugated tin roofs, usually a tree, sometimes livestock, usually an outside oven shaped like a beehive all completed the picture. We also started passing rows of new housing developments, all in lines, all the same, water tanks on the roof. Maybe the quality of life would be much better in these new developments, one thing is for sure it would be very different.

I was navigating and steered the group to Caucete on the premise it would be easier to find a hotel there than in the big city. Wrong. There was only one small hotel with no parking, so we had to head back about 10 miles before we eventually found a decent one, Hotel Kristal. And it had air conditioning – our first so far, and it had an internet room!

We arrived grumpy, hot, dusty and tired at about 6pm. I headed off for the Internet room (very slow connection), some went into the pool and others relaxed. By 8pm it had cooled enough for some work on the cars. For some reason Ivor’s front tyres had almost worn out, though they had been new for the trip, and his water pump was leaking. The Westie had received a bump. Chris had inadvertently on one of our U turns reversed into a concrete lump which had torn and twisted the rear luggage rack (which was in a sorry state already from this trip with bits falling off) and the rear tow point. So we hammered and straightened and taped in a metal bar to support it all. Chris bought beers and water out for the workers and even had a go with a spanner himself! Just as we were near finishing a dust storm blew up, the trees were bent over the sand was almost blinding. Those in the pool ran for cover and we finished up, as quickly as we could! 9.30 found us all dusty again and in the restaurant ordering a superb salad and an omelette before a reasonably early night as we wanted to be off by 7am tomorrow to miss the heat – if we can. This wonderful hotel (air conditioned) with a reasonable breakfast cost about £12 each a night.