Ms Hertz arrives late to open up shop for our second car hire, deals first with a woman who arrived after us, hanging on long after it is clear nobody will answer her phone calls. Despite computer and photocopier the paperwork drags on. Finally Mr Hertz takes us to their small lot. Our pre-booked car is a monster truck. I will need a step ladder to get in, Martin glazes over as the 4x4 controls are explained, the ritual inspection of the dents. The large rear flat bed is covered with a tarpaulin and Mr Hertz suggests our luggage will be safer in plain view piled on the back seats. Luckily one of the dings has jammed the tailgate. Mr H wrestles with it a while in vain and decides to call for another. I take the opportunity to ask for a small car as we aren't driving on any unpaved roads. Mr and Ms H agree this would be more suitable, but what do you expect booking with an agent in Buenos Aires.

They obtain authorisation and even a refund and finally after an hour and a half we drive off happy in another Chevy Classic, this one possibly the cleanest, least dented vehicle in the country, luggage safely locked in the boot, but without a map which both the agency and Hertz thought the other should provide. By the time we get out of the city through the heavy traffic it is lunch time and we haven't even started the 185km drive.

On the outskirts of a small village of single story adobe arcades with the look of a Mexican pueblo film set, men on horseback dressed as gauchos for fiesta, we spot a seemingly derelict building with wooden tables on a terrace and people eating. There is no menu, just 3 choices of dishes, the veal escalope and grilled fish simple but delicious. The coca-cola attracts a legion of wasps which drown in one last quivering sugary orgy. We have to stop further on to caffeinate Martin with coffee so it's very late, the sun is low and we are tired by the time we reach the truly scenic part of the drive.

Along the road scattered shacks and stalls selling clay pots and drinks, lure tourists with a couple of tethered llamas. We stop, take the photo but buy nothing, the woman still comes over and hands me a leaflet with a map and description of the stopping places we should have seen, most not clearly signposted. We decide to spend the next day coming back to explore the breathtaking scenery properly.