Thwack thwack thwack thwack.Our feet pounded against the floor of the airport as we raced through it, oblivious to the stares of the other travellers as we barged our way past. My small rucksack, containing only the essential passports and boarding passes, smacked against my back as we ran. Everything else we needed for the trip was in our main packs. Where were they? I dared to glance down at my watch, immediately regretting it as the worst was confirmed. Our flight had gone.

I remember reading years ago about how, as you approach the Sahara Desert, the whole horizon is occupied by what seems to be a never-ending range of mountains which loom out of the ground in all their burnt amber glory. Ever since reading about them, I have dreamt about the dunes of orange sand that are tall enough to reach the sky and stars. I’ve imagined the long-limbed, lumbering camels that carry their masters for miles upon miles, their steady, swaying strides never faltering. For me, this encapsulated the ultimate adventure: the hardship of the intense sun and persistent sand, combined with the beauty of the inhospitable desert and the exhilaration of travelling high on the back of such a foreign four-legged animal. Finally, after years of impatiently flicking through photos and reading accounts of camel treks in the Sahara, it was my turn.

“Only another fifteen minutes to the top,” Youssef said encouragingly, seeing our weary expressions and sweaty, glistening faces. I breathed in deeply, the altitude making it hard for my lungs to get enough oxygen. As I inhaled, I looked around, marvelling at the sharp ridges of craggy rock that fanned out below me before disappearing into the soft haze of the horizon.

As the sun sets on a glorious and uncharacteristically warm Saturday evening in April, what would you find the majority of the English population doing? Probably lounging in their garden, cremating some food on the barbeque, fetching more chilled beers from the fridge… What was I doing? Sitting alone on a hill in Oxfordshire, enveloped by my sleeping bag, watching the sun slowly sink below the glowing horizon.

“Stick your axe out! Stick your axe out!” I could barely make out Mungo’s words before they were whipped away by the near gale-force winds. I was on my back skidding down the side of a snow-covered Scottish mountain towards the boulders at the bottom of the valley… Head first. Using all my will-power to focus on the instructions being yelled at me, I threw my ice axe out to my side, two numb hands desperately clinging onto the metal handle, defying my damp gloves’ urge to lose traction. The pick feathered across the surface of the snow for a gut-wrenching moment, before finally gaining purchase.

I'm going to get this ball rolling with a confession. Or several, to be precise. First up: I haven't quite lived up to my promise of monthly adventures alongside my new full-time job. I set myself this challenge before actually starting the job, before fully realising how much of an adjustment working 9-5 was going to be for me.

At the start of the year, I wrote a To Do list of things I wanted to achieve this year. Already ticked off include ‘Graduating’ and ‘Read more books’, and it looks like I can now tick off ‘Walk the Kungsleden’. That’s right: my final week on this sensational route has come to an end! Including my various detours along the way, I have covered some 485km over 32 days.

The theme of the last four days has been fog, rain and wet ground - not dissimilar to the section I wrote about in my last blog! I've mainly been covering low mountain terrain, made up of now very familiar birch forests, giving way to open plateaux once I've climbed above the treeline  (a daily occurence).

Well, I'm not going to sugarcoat it: the last 5 days have been tough. For starters, I left Kvikkjokk Mountain Station with a heavier load than I've had to carry so far; I needed 5-6 days worth of food compared to previously only needing enough for 2-3 days. This meant I was carrying about 18kg to begin with, a weight that obviously decreased as I made my way through my rations (as if I needed extra incentive to eat...). Add into the mix some difficult terrain to navigate through…

Summer in Lapland appears to have been and gone. No, honestly, I'm not just being melodramatic: each morning I wake up to a crisp frost coating the ground and layer of determined ice over water; the once green leaves on the trees I'm now so frequently surrounded by are turning yellow, gold and red as each day passes; darkness is creeping in ever earlier each evening, welcomed in by some of the most glorious sunsets I've witnessed. Rumour has it, the Aurora Borealis have made their first appearances in the area…

Have you ever wanted to know what it's like to sleep in a leaking tent in the Arctic wilderness, whilst ferocious winds rage around you, so strong they not only permanently bend the poles of your tent but also force it into collapsing on your face at 4am, waking you up to the sensation of suffocating? No? Well neither had I, but life has a funny way of opening our eyes to new experiences...

Abisko Fjällstation - Abiskojaure (13km) - Alesjaure (22km) - Sälkastugan  (27km) - Kebnekaise Fjällstation (26km)

After nearly a year since my last regular blog, I'm back! I had such a great time writing a blog while I was walking a thousand miles that I decided it would be a good idea to start it up again for my next adventure. So, what is my next adventure?

Santiago de Compostela - Negreira (20km) - Santa Mariña (19.6km) - Cee (31.9km) - Finisterre/Fisterra (14km)

Bodenaya - Campiello (24.5km) - Berducedo (27km) - Grandas de Salime - A Fonsagrada (24.9km) - Cadavo Baleira (24.1km) - Lugo (30.5km) - San Roman de Retorta (18km) - Melide (28.2km) - Salceda (24km) - Santiago de Compostela (28km)

Cóbreces - San Vicente de la Barquera (21.4km) - Pendueles (26.7km) - Celorio (19km) - Ribadesella (24.8km) - Sebrayo (31.5km) - La Vega de Sariego (23.2km) - Oviedo (27.1km) - San Juan de Villapañada (29.5km) - Bodenaya (24.5km)

Markina-Xemein - Gernika (25km) - Lezama (20km) - Bilbao (12km) - Pobeña (25km) - Islares (26km) - Santoña (23.1km) - San Miguel de Meruelo (18km) - Santander (24km) - Viveda (25km) - Cóbreces (22km)

SJPdP - Saint-Etienne-de-Baigorry (20) **Car - Bus - Train - Train - Bus to Irun, Spain** Irun - San Sebastián (33km) - Zarautz (18km) - Deba (24km) - Markina-Xemein (23km)

Maslacq - Navarrenx (21.8km) - Aroue (19km) - Ostabat (23.9km) - St-Jean-Pied-de-Port (20.9km)