The last 3 days have been as enjoyable as re-writing George Bush's speeches, as painful as parents evening when you know your kid is a complete bugger, and as uneventful as an all-male pajama party. Monday was one long, very hot walk alongside truckers route 287. Tuesday was one long, very hot walk alongside truckers route 287, except this time carrying 4 days worth of food. In the evening i refilled with water in Aroya before walking a few more miles. The clever idea was to reach Pumpkin Centre 27 miles away by Wednesday evening so i could refill on water. There's nothing between Aroya and there and if it was going to be another blisteringly hot day the 4 litres of water i was carrying wouldn't last too long. It was the perfect plan, the logic was undeniable.

In the high flatlands no-one can here you swear. During the night the bite-valve on my water pouch became squashed between my GPS and the tent pole. Water had slowly dripped out and by morning i was left with a pint, plus a pint in my emergency container. Not funny. A 6 mile round trip back to Aroya was out of the question, so i set off desperately hoping there would be a ranch in the next 10 miles. 18 miles later and nothing. I was contemplating cutting across the scrubland to one of the windmills which are used to pump well water for cattle, yum. As fate would have it a kind guy by the name of Ross pulled up, and as he had no water drove me to Pumpkin Centre. I was alive, if not a little thirsty.

The potential for being so close to death made me think about a few things in a different light-if cows could talk, would they ask for a massage? What would i say to the Queen? If you pull the legs off a fly what would you call it? What can i say, I'm an optimist.