We're now at the end of the trek, lodged overnight in Las Vegas. This is only the second time I've had access to the internet to send this report. But we have trekked and struggled for five long days and most must be feeling tired. I am. And then tonight the adrenalin will recede and the fatigue will kick in and replace it. As I write, at 6:20pm (8 hours behind UK time), I feel that sleep is likely to be the choice after dinner. The tables, through which I'll be strolling as I head for my room, will attract my eye for sure. And I may play a hand or a fist of blackjack. But see a show? No chance. And the truth is that I don't like being in this city. Never have. It is full of fat suburbans with no sense of culture and it is too noisy, so incessantly noisy, for me. After the amazing solitude and peace we all felt through Death Valley, this is a culture shock, and that's the one and only time you'll see me use the word culture in the same sentence as the words Las and Vegas.

Check your atlas, or go Google Earth and see where we've been. Beatty Junction to Stovepipe Wells and Panamint Springs, and Furnace Junction; tiny settlements in an arid land, all pioneer locations, and off the road, a few miles off, ghost towns once thriving with '49-ers, but run down since the gold rush; and the mines were finally abandoned in the 1920s. There is much to tell of this fabulous trek, but this isn't the time. I shall raid my copious notes when I get back and write in more detail.

Some of the volunteers here will find it difficult to explain to their families and friends and sponsors what they have been through out here - 60 miles a day on a cycle, uphill for an unrelenting 16 miles on more than one occasion in blistering heat ... It'll take a while for it to properly sink in, I reckon. This is a fine group of people, from all walks. It's been a fine and life-enhancing experience. Next week, Cheltenham; the greatest festival of racing imaginable, and I will be there for the Gold Cup. That'll be something, but little will compare with this trek. Little is likely to come even close for quite some time. I love an adventure. You know what I say: the answer is yes, what's the question.

Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a Heaven for? Many here have probably exceeded their own grasp several times over. They will read this (I hope) and know what Mr Browning was meaning.

More to come

SH