There's a real sense of freedom walking down a mountainside with 25 mile views of the valley below with nothing but rock and sand in sight and a deafening absense of noise. Then i tripped and broke my ankle. It's ok i didnt really, however the dirt track i walked down was pretty rough forcing me to continually watch my footing, not for dog poo like my mother taught me rather big loose volcanic rocks. It's been a big day. I've walked my last mountain range; passed through my final reservation; said goodbye to Arizona and hello my California; entered Pacific time, and i'm now at only 500ft elevation, my lowest since back in June. Tomorrow i start my penultimate challenge- 153 miles of desert to Barstow. I'm couldn't be more prepared-my exact route is plotted (walk west), I'll be in continual contact with myself incase of emergencies, and my underpants are clean. The bonus is I'll be away from the blast zone of Russian nukes if John McCain becomes President tomorrow.