Miles on the clock: 41,810
Snorting with disbelief at my own stubbornness, I silence the dutiful alarm and sit up. My bedroom is vast and without ceiling. It is a home to some, but not to me. The wind that has blasted out of the north for many thousands of years has completed its nightly ritual of weakening to a stiff breeze. I had foregone a tent as the dust and sand have a way of getting in. With no tent it piles up beside me and then simply blows past.