One of the last things Candace said to me before leaving Durango was "At least a longboard is more romantic than a bicycle". If this is romance, then I'm in a pretty messed up relationship. It's been tough long days, and i have the cuts, bruises, sprains, ripped clothes and dents on my board to prove it. Balancing with a 30kg rucksack is near impossible on a board because the weight continually shifts. It didn't matter how tight I'd screwed everything on the board or how low i stood, if i did over 15mph the board would wobble and I'd eat gravel. Which i did a few times. Every day.

The Navajo Nation is a dangerous place, full of drunks, psycho's, backwards people who are best kept away from. That's the small-minded idiotic view of many people anyway and i wish i hadn't of listened to those numb-nuts, as my first hand experience is a great deal different. On the whole i found the Navajo to be welcoming, cheery and friendly. Yes i met a few drunks but they were so far gone and bemused by my longboard that they made great conversationalists. The rest of the world could learn a lot from the Navajo. They manage the best they can on the crappy land they were stuck with with little complaint. They have strong family ties, traditions and a sense of community which is hard to find anywhere else nowadays. Once i got over the being in a whole different country thing and the poor advice given to me before i entered the reservation, i felt a whole lot safer than in many other parts of the US I've been through. The Police weren't called because i walked past someones house, no-one tried to run me over or shout abuse at me or hassle me for change. I'm most annoyed because in Kayenta i tried to hitch a lift so i could make a detour to Monument Valley, somewhere I've been excited about going to since NYC. I've had over a dozen offers of lifts from locals in the reservation however the only people driving North from Kayenta were tourists. 4hrs trying and not one person stopped. To top it off, after angrily stomping back to the highway and sitting at the side of the road munching on a comfort king-size Snickers, a local Navajo woman stopped to offer me a ride West and gave me $5. God bless America indeed.

Anyway enough of the moaning. Apart from my newly found hatred for tourists(am i one though?!) i had a great time. There were more downhills than up which meant some days i was steaming along. The hard shoulder changed every few miles but generallyi could swap between the shoulder and the road when the traffic quietened. The only places to get supplies apart from Kayenta and Tuba City were small trading posts and I'm glad i took the longboard as there was no way i would have be mentally able to walk it. Most nights i slept under the stars as rock and sand do not go with tentpegs.

The problem now is that I'm right royally knackered and sore. I'm slightly worried that i have a slight ankle sprain in the same way I'm worried about the positioning of the letter 'D' in 'Wednesday'. I'm scared the cut under my knee i got from falling off my board is scarring into the shape of George Bush's face. These are indeed troubling times.

So I've reached Flagstaff. I now need a few private moments with my longboard before he's shipped back to atlanta and I'm back on foot. Then it's the final leg-550 miles to Los Angeles. Before that though I'm taking a bus tour to the Grande Canyon. I also tried hitching a detour there from Cameron but yep, you guessed it-tourists. My descriptive skills are limited to words like 'shiny', 'nice' and 'blimmin marvellous' so i will le the photo's do the talking once they're on the site. Also thank you to the American Legion for putting my mug on their homepage. Take a laugh at www.legion.org