My great buddy Greg Havely flew into Scotsdale from Damascus, Oregon this morning and has hired a car to meet me on the road. I have known Greg since my very first trip when I spent 3 weeks travelling in Egypt in 1976. I was with another friend, Louis Brady originally from  Drumcondra, Dublin who moved to Hounslow, London. He got a job for British Airways flying around Europe fixing their computer terminals. That was the last I heard of him. If anyone knows the whereabouts of Louis please let me know.

We were in Cairo train station and saw a figure rushing down the platform asking if .. ” This is the train to El Alamein! ” That Was Greg and he is now my oldest (timewise!)  current friend.

Myself and Greg have kinda kept in contact all these years and this will be our 4th meeting.

Greg is hugely travelled and must have been to every corner of the globe, including a 2 year trip around Africa. He didn’t settle down and marry till he was 50 and now has an eleven year old boy, so I guess you could say he has had the best of both worlds!

His son Max is soccer crazy as is Greg who coaches his team, In fact the whole of that corner of the States, Oregon and Washington is soccer crazy with the Portland Timbers now doing well in their first season in the MSL.

WITH MY GREAT BUDDY GREG

It was great to catch up on old times and travel tales. Greg has always been interested in my ultra running and when I announced this trip he promised he would meet up with me here in Arizona and treat me to a couple of nights in a comfortable motel.

So on the Tuesday I took a rest day so as we could go hike some of the trails and eat ice cream, not necessarily in that order

Yes Sedona was a good spot for our reunion. Thanks Greg, I enjoyed your visit, hope we can meet again somewhere like Peru would be nice, one of the few places you have never been to.

I lashed out the miles along route 89a stopping around 4pm in Cottonwood for something to eat. I wanted to run on for a couple of hours after a long stop. Instead I stopped just as it was getting very dark in a place called Clarksdale.

It seemed to be an extension of Cottonwood 5 miles away seperated by several roundabouts and house after house, just like one dragged out city.

There was a light coming from the Baptist church. What night is tonight? I asked myself.

Wednesday night, good thats bible study night!

So I pushed Nirvana right up to the door and walked in with my high viz vest and Spot tracking device dangling from my right arm. I took off my bandana and sat down to some amazed looks.

A bilingual guest pastor was giving a sermon to an American and Mexican congregration.

When the service was over I asked the resident pastor, Harry Boldin if there was a place for me to lay my sleeping bag for the night. He told me they were not insured for this andwas giving me the impression I could go back to his place but I would have to get up 5am as he had to go to work!

While he was locking up I was thinking about how difficult it may be getting back here to continue from the same spot so I just asked if I couldlay my sleeping bag out under the church foyer as it was a lovely night. That seemed like a good idea to Pastor Harry so evryone was happy.

Next morning I was happy I stopped where I did as the road tightened with little or no hard shoulder. There was also a ferrocious 20km / 12 mile steep climb as I ran out of Jerome, a former mining town which boasted over 20 nationalities among its residents during the boom of the 1880′s. Yesterday someone emailed me to say Oscar Wilde drank a group of tough miners into submission. I joined a group of tourists and asked the leader did he know anything about our celebrated liteary schollar but just got a blank and the usual, I’m not surprised if he was Irish comment!

Meanwhile this massive climb is by far tougher than anything I encountered in the Rockies and my day has become a crawl!

Eventually I get a bit of downhill and make it a decent almost 46km day when Ken from Prescott’s Mountain Milers Running Club comes out to pick me up from mile marker 321.

A Wicklow man living in France called Ed took it upon himself to email the club. Thanks Ed I owe you as this was a very rewarding experience for me meeting this lovely club

Ken is a race director of many of the clubs races. He brought me back to his nice appartment complex. He was also looking after a neighbours who was good enough to let me stay there for two nights next door to Ken and his wife Debbie.

This meant when Ken took me back to my marker I was able to run 50km without Nirvana but ran for about an hour with one of the club runners a guy called Len who owns a health club. I was under a bit of pressure to get my run done early as the club had booked a room in a Prescott restraunt in my honor. I was told about 20 members would be turning up. As usual I got off to my usual notoriously late start and managed to get done just 2 minutes later than Ken wanted me to finish.

On the way back in the car Ken’s phone rang and I heard the lamest excuse I ever did to get out of a night out. One of the members had a foot operation that very day and said he couldn’t go because he couldn’t get up the stairs.

” What can you guys not give him a buddy lift? ” So thats what happened and they had the softie in his seat on the second floor in one minute!

Earlier Ken had been giving me funny looks. The restaurant is on a street called Gurley Street. I thought he was saying Girlie Street and wanted to know why and was there a load of hookers hanging around!

We had a lovely night chatting about my trip and running. I had a lovely steak

Thanks for a lovely night boys and girls!

Next morning we are heading out, Ken and Debra are going to drop me off with another club runner a runner called Rob. Ken and Debra are going to drop us off where I finished up with my 50km yesterday. They will drive onto Yarndale and run to meet us and then I will continue on my own. We are still in the garage and Debra wants to give me a huge pillow! Also a box of tea bags. I give her the box back and tell her thats how weight consious I am and my idea of a pillow is my arm or one of these tea bags. She is deadly serious.

” But Tony I really don’t need it! ”

Ken tells me and Rob he will drop water off every 5 miles. Then Rob tells me his name is Rob Turpin. So I call him Dick Turpin the highway robber and tell him to leave my highway water drops alone. I really meet them!

It was really hot now as I ran on on my own into a town called Congress. I scoffed a pint of ice cream at a supermarket before stopping at a restaurant called Nichols West owned by an Englishman called Simon and his South African wife.

I am starting to become concerned about snakes. I have seen a couple of dead ones on the road and locals tell me they are coming out and are a real danger. So I asked could I pitch my tent behind their restaurant. I think I will have to camp more and less of the roughing!