Desperate! Mother Earth speaks up!

“Huiii! Huuiiiiii! Huuiiiiii!” howls our old Gastiniza. I open my eyes with great respect and fear of the wind. My gaze falls on a cobweb on the open window. It flutters in the wind. “My dear God. Why are you sending us this wind? How are we supposed to cross this endless, lonely steppe?” I think and fall asleep again. In my dream, I organize a truck that drives in front of us as a slipstream. “Not a bad idea. I really must remember that when I’m awake again,” I try to remind myself in my dream. Then I load the bikes and equipment onto a horse-drawn cart. That is allowed. We can do that. We are still crossing the steppe using the usual means of transportation. But where do we get a horse and cart? Should we even load the bikes onto a truck? But this is no longer a bike tour. “Huiii! Huuiiiiii! Huuiiiiii!” I am woken by the menacing sound. Tired and with aching limbs, I get up and look through the totally filthy window at the deserted village street. Stormy gusts blow plastic bags to the northwest. That can’t be true! The wind has shifted again to our disadvantage. From here, we no longer have to cycle south but east. So now the wind is coming from the southeast and is therefore against us. I could tear my hair out. Desperate, I lie back down on the sagging mattress. My gaze falls on Tanja, who is sleeping next to me in another bed. Her steady breathing lulls me back to sleep. My dream picks up again where I left off before. Again, I despaired even in my dreams. “Do you think you can rebel against nature? You’ve learned during your travels and expeditions that this makes no sense,” I hear the voice that I always attribute to Mother Earth in such cases. Since crossing Australia, I have communicated with Mother Earth from time to time. At first I didn’t think I was right in the head, but after a while I realized that these conversations had a very real background. Whenever I’m feeling particularly bad or have big problems, I hear this voice. Always except in Germany. Strange. Perhaps my challenges in Germany are of a different nature. Perhaps I don’t have access to her, to Mother Earth, in my home country. Who knows? But why does the voice now appear to me in a dream? Why not as usual during the day? It doesn’t matter, the main thing is that it’s there. Or am I just imagining things? Is it not Mother Earth? It’s just a dream! “Yes, you’re right. It’s a dream, but it’s a dream you’ll remember when you wake up. “Good, then we’ll talk to each other in the dream. Then surely you can tell me how we’re going to solve the challenge of this constant headwind? No one can manage that! It’s impossible to cycle through a desert-like steppe at 40 degrees or even more with our equipment!” I ask, almost a little desperately. “I don’t understand you. You know you can’t get through the wall with your head. You know that you don’t control time and space. But you can make use of time,” replies the dream voice. “And how?” “Do you think that the mountaineers who climb Mount Everest can set off whenever they want? They also have to wait for the right weather. And if they are impatient and don’t respect the laws of nature, they might even pay with their lives.” “Hm, that’s simple. So we should wait until the wind dies down?” “For example. That’s at least one possibility. Let it flow. Take your time. Live in the moment. That’s what we taught you in the desert. Didn’t we? Have you forgotten that?” I hear it as I open my eyes and the dream voice mixes with the howling of the wind. “Wow! That’s it. We wait a little. I really need to talk to Tanja about this.

Later, Tanja and I sit at the table in our room and discuss the situation. I told her about my dream in detail. Together we let our brains run at full speed and look for solutions. “Why don’t you get the map,” she then asks me. We can’t see anything on the relatively imprecise map that helps us. Then I switch on the laptop and take a close look at the map program. At the largest possible scale, we follow the marked road to the east. And lo and behold, small villages appear about every 50 kilometers. “Where there are villages, there is also water,” I say. “Exactly. We are able to transport water for two days. This means that we will always reach a village where we can replenish our water supplies,” Tanja concludes. “Yes, that’s how we’ll do it. We could manage that,” I say, whereupon we plan the route for the next 350 kilometers in detail.

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