More rotten luck! But that didn’t matter because now I was dying of thirst, struggling to breath.
I’d have to wait until tomorrow. Because my technique of getting water collects dew. And as for
shelter, the shade of the trees would do.
The sun gradually set, and the night crept in like a cat going for the kill. Jerboa’s started to
appear. In case you didn’t know what Jerboa’s are you ought to know. They are nocturnal, rodent-
looking animals. They have ears that look bigger than themselves and black, soulful eyes. After
watching them hop around a bit I dozed off.
The following morning I woke up, thankfully unharmed. There are many dangerous
creatures around the place and I didn’t want to be their next victim. I lay there for a couple of
minutes, squinting in the sun before I checked on my water trap. I wouldn’t say I collected a very
impressive quantity of water but it was enough to keep me going. I sipped a bit and squeezed the
rest into my canteen. Because it was time to get going.
Once again I scanned the horizon, trying to finally find a way out of this ghastly place. There
were a few patches of grass in the distance so I decided to head there. I was hoping to find a
village, or at least a group of travellers.
Several hours later I was still trudging forward like a zombie, sipping water every once in a
while. I was certain I saw a few golden eagles on the way. I imagined them picking the delicate
flesh off my dead body. A not-so-comforting thought. You think that’s bad enough? There are
stories of a giant, bright red worm that reaches up to one and a half meters in length. It is called
the Mongolian Death worm. An American explorer wrote about it as so poisonous that merely
touching it means instant death. Anyway, I shouldn’t bore you with all these tales. In fact at this
point in the story I wondered if I would even live to tell them. I was virtually dead. Out of water,
dehydrated, and dry as the desert itself, with cracked lips. But, I remember seeing two figures over
the horizon, getting bigger by the minute. My eyes began to droop, and my skin began to shrivel
up. My eyes closed and I fell down onto the hard gravel with the figures progressing toward me.
When my eyes opened again I was face down over the back of a large animal. A Bactrian
camel if I remember. But aside from that, I was feeling different. I was still dazed and weak, but
I felt more hydrated. They must have given me water while I was unconscious. They. Who’s they?
I thought to myself. A large human figure was sitting on the camel with his back to me. Them.
These people had saved me, whoever they were. A man on another camel shouted in Mongolian,
and the man on my camel turned around and saw that I was awake.
“You’ve been out for hours, we weren’t sure that you would survive”. The Mongolian man said
in English. His accent was thick; he seemed to carefully select each word before speaking. But his
English was perfect. I said nothing.
“I suspect you’ve come from the Gobi March?” He asked. I nodded in reply.
“We know about it. It happens every year. But no one has ever got lost.”
“Where are you taking me?” I replied weakly. Every word was and effort for me.
“To the finish. You’ve missed the last leg.” I wasn’t too thrilled with that comment. I’ve won
marathons and half marathons but I can’t even complete a 7 day race with breaks in between.
As the next few hours went on we still hadn’t reached the ‘finish’. But the men still remained
calm and we trudged on.
Sometime later we just stopped, in the middle of a desert, for no reason. By now I was strong
enough to sit upright on the camel. I asked why we stopped.
“Just look over there” The man gestured. At first I thought he may have been pointing at an
