This has been an absolute thrill and delight. Yes, my feet are neither use nor ornament right now, but the spirit is high sitting within spitting distance from the bar in Kashgar International Hotel waiting for two other sensible competitors. Sensible is boring, but sensible gets you home in one piece. I stand as ever in awe and admiration of the determination of the competitors cursed blessed with plenty of testosterone giving them that burning desire to complete a truly staggering test such as this, many of them in far worse shape than I when I bailed - I feel you, guys and gals, even if my own level of testosterone never strayed out of the green zone. It has been a complete privilege to be fly on the wall and pretend to be one of you if only for a few days, and I wouldn't have missed it for anything. The comradeship of the whole group and our tent Villa Miao in particular was unforgettable. I can safely say when Mary and team plans an endurance event with a theme more atuned to foie gras consumption than waist high mud and 45 degree desert, I'll be the first to sign up. Thank you to all from the bottom of my heart for your cheerful support and comments, it has been a big part of the whole experience! Out from Gobi. ---

DEAR BOSS

IT GIVES US NO PLEASURE TO HAVE TO ADDRESS YOU IN THIS MANNER BUT YOU HAVE LEFT US LITTLE CHOICE. IT WAS BAD ENOUGH WHEN YOU LEARNED BALLROOM DANCING IN THE 1980S IN THOSE TIGHT SHINY SHOES PRANCING ABOUT LIKE A MINDLESS LUNATIC, BUT IT NEVER GOT AS GRUESOME AS THIS. OVER THE PAST TWO DAYS YOU HAVE DRAGGED US THROUGH A RAGING INFERNO LEADING TO THUMB-SIZED BLISTERS, LOOSE TOE-NAILS, TORN SKIN AND A GENERAL FEELING OF BEING THE ONION IN A PARTICULARLY HOT IRISH STEW. PAIN IS A COMPANION, NOT A FRIEND. AND BY THE WAY, NOT LOSING FACE IS NOT HIGH ON OUR PRIORITY LIST DOWN SOUTH.

OUR TERMS: YOU QUIT NOW AND WE'RE FRIENDS AGAIN. FOR EVERY FURTHER STAGE YOU DECIDE TO COMPLETE, WE GET 45 MINUTES FOOT-MASSAGE AND THE ATTENTION OF HONG KONG'S FINEST PEDICURIST. AND LOSE THOSE INFERNAL CROCS.

AND SIR, DON'T THINK WE'RE POWERLESS; YOU MUST HAVE HEARD OF GANGRENE.

WITH THE DEEPEST REGRET, WE REMAIN

SINCERELY YOURS

RIGHTY AND LEFTY

I found this note tucked into my shoe this morning in a handwriting unlike anything I have seen before. I may not be much of a democrat, but I have learned that power cannot be maintained if you ignore the lower classes, so I really don't have any choice but to comply. So here we are, 100km out of 250 is the score, but curiosity definitely satisfied, head cleared, dozens of the kind of conversations that can only be enjoyed in the middle of a desert amongst complete strangers. Would I do it again? Not according to the binding settlement reached with my feet, so the next one will of necessity have to be completed walking on my hands. Honeyko, break out the champagne, daddy is coming home.

I was wrong. It is a fabulous idea. We have sun, sand, snowclad mountains in the distance, the air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto to our gentle senses. First stage was completed in what my fellow competitors dubbed the Gobi Tiptoe Shuffle, the last half in my Crocs, as promised to my lovely wife who recollects Mikkelgate with fear and horror; the medical team sends their love and hope to never see you again, Mikkel. Of course I'm much smarter than that; my method developed over years of hiking is, when I start getting a craving for certain types of music, I need to rehydrate. Today at around 2pm it set in. I Have A Crush On You (Frank Sinatra/Barbra Streisand) wouldn't exit my head... Immediate hydrolyte infusion and lots of water. Too bad Mikkel doesn't have my bad taste in music; the method obviously won't work if you don't have the proper music selection on your iPod. I'm let to believe the real performance athletes get airlifted out in helicopter the moment they start humming anything Celine Dion. But I digress. My Riz de Veaux Toulousienne is almost ready and the chef needs the oven for the souffles. More on the next stages.