There is a very, let's call it, competitive mindset in India, but it all revolves around the ability to squeeze into the gap ahead of the next person. I does not matter how small it is, if there is actually a gap at all. even if the guys in front has stopped, to let a train pass at a level crossing, or a truck is turning in front of him, nothing matters if you feel that there is a slight gap in your mind, it's fair game, you can go for it.

It's been a bit of a slog along the massive N3 highway, but we had no option but to hit it as it goes directly south for quite a while. It finally went west which meant we had to hop off it so I could look for the bush roads again, and they came with vengeance. The first shortcut into the bush brought me to the edge of the escarpment that I had been running up for the past 500km. I could not believe it after all these weeks of running up hill I hit this goat track below a fort and in 2 hours I dropped 700m down, I was hoping for at least a 2 week down hill run in compensation for all the hard work and here the climb just evaporated in an instance.

I have always had this rule on adventures, an hour before dark, that’s it, call it a day and find a place to camp. If you try and push on in the dark things always go pear shaped. It happens every time, one thinks you would learn. We have had a few weeks of signal problems, especially with uploads to our site and Youtube. I had just run into Ratlam and the team called me, there was massive bandwidth here, so we decided to find a little shop with power, take a few hours off and catch up with the media. This meant I also had to stop and edit all my footage so that Nick could upload it. I also had blogs and pictures that needed to be sorted out.

The whole day had been crazy, the Mahadra Predesh province has not been our best and once again we had been kicked off the land where we wanted to sleep. Eventually the crew found a new spot, but just off a road and right in the path of local traffic which we try and avoid, as if you are seen, the bush telegraph goes out and every villager in a 3km radius will be there to come and have a look.

It had been another long hard day, camp is always a reward at the end especially if it’s a stealth one (one that we can get to without the locals seeing us, otherwise it's bush TV till it's dark). This camp was perfect, up against the side of the mountain no village, no temple playing music, just the quiet sounds of nature and a rare view. The view was down the valley and onto the rolling plains below. The nice thing was that there was a train line and a freeway far off to the right, we could hear nothing but could see all the vehicles like ants moving up and down, the odd train looked like a snake looking for warmth in the evening sun.

Nick and I had been filming a massive derelict cathedral in the town Mandu. From there I was to run on to the edge of the plateau and then down to the Namara river. This area has been such mental food and stimulation compared to the rest of the MP province so it was worth taking time off to look at these beautiful; old buildings. We walked around the back of the ruin following a path back to the road. The path wound through some really small little farms and orchards. Then we descended into a bigger guava orchard. On entering we heard some really strange load squawking of birds ahead.

India is a hard place in all aspects, just traveling even as a normal tourist has its challenges. Running the country has taken it to a new level. I have seen poverty hardship and have experienced my fair share of difficulty and hardship. I basically live like a local. Each day is a grind of 45-50km, and then find a place to camp, cook food with whatever we can find at the village market, eat and then collapse till the next morning.

As this journey has unfolded, I have seen quite a marked change when I enter from one province to the next, the style of dwellings change, dress changes, food changes as well as the look and attitude of the people. Kashmir was the start, I probably had the least interaction with the people here, as language was a huge issue. I found the people very friendly, but in discussion there was always a distinct turn to push the conversation in the political direction trying to find out if I had any views, which I made sure that I was neutral. I also feel that I did not get an accurate cross section of the food as the most of the places that I ate were the roadside low-grade truck stop points which served really cheap stews and chapatti – bread. Most of the guys all wore the distinct robe that looked like the dress that you would see in Pakistan. All in all I feel I did not see the best of the province from where I ran.

On these cold misty mornings as I run through the highland villages, I have seen strange things going on, no matter how cold it is or early, there will be women walking out of their small walled village homes with a large metal pan on their heads and this will be full of cow dung. They will then tip this out onto some straw and make massive dung pancakes. Should a cow happen to pass and drop a steamer, the lady will stop and in an instant scoop it up into her pan.