Looks like we took out a nearside lower bush on the car while driving on Baja’s worst road. Ah well, better it goes now than in the middle of nowhere. On top of that, found a nail AND a screw in the offside front tyre. No love for the front end today. Luckily Nico Lopez appears to be a top, top man.

This is a correctly-constructed margarita. It should be too heavy to casually lift with the unassisted hand. Hence the straw. Margaritas should only be drunk between 6am and 10am, hence getting a nasty stare from the barstaff when I ordered one.

Among all the dire warnings regarding Mexico, the last one we’ve taken seriously was about the lack of petrol stations en route, or at least the large distances between them. To compound this, the car only takes premium - 91 octane - and I’m not prepared to risk lower, not yet, anyway. Lower octane fuel burns less cleanly and on a smooth-running engine like a V6, engine noises can be harder to detect, more subtle. Petrol is nationalized here, with fixed prices and station attendents doing all the work for you, but not every station has premium. And nor does the guy who sells gas from his cart.

Heading south on Highway 1. We realize that we’ve left a phone behind in the hotel room. Time to head back and leave early tomorrow instead.

A few beers in the only bar in town with life…