The last ten kilometers of today are up again, but not as steep as this morning. At about half past two I find a place for my tent. When you leave at seven thirty, in this heat that is more than late enough. This spot is excelent. It is quite a way off the road, so the traffic won't keep me awake for another night. I am hidden between willows so nobody will come and pay me a (possibly unpleasant) visit at night. And I am in a dry riverbed, where traces are that at times it can be quite a stream! But now there's no water, so I don't worry. However, when I wake up from my siesta it is suddenly quite cool and strangely quiet. All animals seem to have stopped breathing, and there's not a spot of blue left in the sky. At the horizon I hear some thunder, but the wind blows that cloud away from me. No panic. But hey, what's that? Behind that hill there's suddenly a lot of smoke, instead of flames - they burn the harvested fields here - which means rain. And that is exactly upstream of my riverbed! Should I move my tent? The smoke comes in my direction. And fast! When I have just brought my bike out of my hiding onto the (privately owned) field there's suddenly mist. Not watermist, but a duststorm.
To save my eyes and my bike I put it back in the river bed in the quiet shelter of the willows. From my tent I listen to the things that happen outside, and every now and again, I peak outside. When the dust has gone, but the wind has not, I get out of my tent, and look around. Half a kilometer to the left and the right there's rain; whether there's rain or not upstream I can't distinguish (is it rain or dust?) It still doesn't rain here. Will I have to move tonight? I don't hope so, but I tell myself to wake up at the first sound of water...
