Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
that I was no longer prepared to pay the ultimate price to complete
this run in the way I had promised. Raising money for the people of
the developing world was my aim and my dream, but how could I help
them further if I was dead? I loved life too much to risk it, and the pros-
pect of never hugging my children again was unbearable. And there
was my crew. I had no idea at this point if Juan had survived the desert.
I felt terrible for him. Fair enough if I died, because the run was my gig,
but I had a duty of care to the crew to keep them safe and sound. I took
another sip of urine and water and prayed for survival.
At first light, I dragged myself to my feet, weakened, parched and
dizzy. I now knew what it would be like to die of thirst. I struggled on
for 50 kilometres and came to a road just after midday. Thank God.
The Pan-American. But it wasn't: it was a minor road. I waited by the
roadside under the scorching naked sun, hoping against hope that
someone would happen along. After an hour, a truck came. The blokes
on board were off to a mine. They responded to my broken Spanish
pleas by letting me have a little of their water and food. They told me
that the highway was 65 kilometres further on.
