Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
temperature, in the high 30s, and the tropical terrain remind me a little
of Cairns in north Queensland, except instead of sugar cane there are
fields of corn. Every night, following intense humidity, the heavens
open in spectacular storms, with lightning that turns night into day
and cracking, rolling thunder.
A good Samaritan named Kevin Chesnutt, a member of the Mt
Hope fire brigade at Julian, saw me sweltering as I ran under the blaz-
ing sun at high noon today and took pity. He offered to cool me down
by spraying me with his fire hose. I said, 'Go for it!' He flicked a switch
in the fire engine, and a huge gush of water shot 50 metres into the air
and drenched me where I stood in the middle of a field like a bedrag-
gled scarecrow. It cooled me right down, and it was a lot of fun!
The stench of dead animals on the roadside is even more overpow-
ering and nauseating in the heat. I am attacked by the flies that buzz
around the carcasses. On many occasions, I have nearly become roadkill
myself, narrowly missing being swiped by the trucks, cars and caravans
that scream past me. Often, their side mirrors, which can extend almost
a metre from the vehicle, come close to bashing my shoulder. If I get hit
by a mirror on a vehicle travelling that fast, I'm badly hurt or dead. These
are possibilities you come to live with on the road.
June 29
A day of terrible heat and relentless media demands that saw me stop-
ping frequently to talk to reporters or do phone interviews. The heat
really knocked me around, and, to make things worse, in the after-
noon, with just 15 kilometres to go for the day, there was a deluge of
biblical proportions. It was a horrific thunderstorm, possibly the worst
I have ever run in, with enormously loud thunder cracks and lightning
flashing all around me. I saw a number of strikes. I was wet to the skin
and very scared that I'd be struck by a bolt of lightning.
I made a decision. The film crew had gone to Charlotte to organise
shoots for tomorrow that we have set up with the Red Cross, triath-
letes' clubs and TV stations, so I insisted that the rest of us—Bernie,
Katie, Emma, Brooke and Dillon—have an early dinner. I turned in
right after I'd eaten, hoping the storm would pass by 2 am or so, and
I could complete the remaining 15 kilometres then. My plan worked.
At 2.10 am, I dragged myself and Bernie out of bed, and I ran down
