4 hrs 47 mins. Another day without incident. Thankfully.

An excellent performance from Hugh, running across wine country. Duly completed in time for a small aperitif.

We set off from Asque in Fronsac, on the north bank of the Dordogne and of the Gironde estuary. This is very attractive wine country, to the north west of the prime regions of St Emilion but still very good, producing merlot based full bodied wines. In the main these are for early drinking, which is just as well for us. Gently undulating countryside with well ordered vineyards - lines of wires train the vines, generally established gnarled vines with thick trunks. They made an attractive patchwork to look at, as we drove along slowly in the intermittent rain and sun. This sort of weather will be just the job for the ripening season. That's enough of that. I'm getting well out of my depth.

Hugh was joined early by Gavin, who is incidentally - as well as another friend, Adam Wilton - a member the fastest unsupported UK team to the South Pole. No hotels or vino for them, to put it into perpesctive. Gav tag teamed with Jonny and later Emma and me who ran the last few miles. Lots of junctions and checking of the route as we were on small roads but great to run on.

Passing vineyard after vineyard along the Rue des Vignes we weakened and felt compelled to visit one - the Chateau de la Prevote. After a tasting we tottered back into the vehicle after a couple of brave souls climbed onto the top and stored the five cases we purchased (mainly halves of 2005, an excellent vintage) into the top box. After, this the van tottered a bit too. During our visit we gave directions to Hugh - as he stoically continued his run - which he followed splendidly, a pleasant surprise for him and us all. Hugh's in laws own one of the oldest vineyards in Portugal so he understood this was a necessary diversion. We videoed Madame's reaction to Hugh's quest. She thought it important his red blood cells are kept healthy. We agree.

We stayed the the night in Montgyon. Surprisingly there were no restaurants open (I'm sure your hearts bleed) but we found a decent brasserie and had an excellent meal in the end to say good bye to Gav, Emma and Jonny who all leave tomorrow. Wine country again, how will we cope?

4hr 46 mins. Nice and steady.

More of the same today, a relatively fast run on roads, accompanied by various friends along the way and gathering pace as we travel towards wine country.

Hugh went to a launderette today. For those who know him this may come as a shock. No, really he did, in tracksuit bottoms as well. He put the bag down, whistled, hands in pockets and stared, slightly frowning at the bank of whirring steel and glass in front of him. After 10 minutes he thought that's done then, picked the bag up and went out. Emma and Samia gently took the bag from him and sent him back to the campervan. It was a morning of chores and washing is better achieved by actually putting it in the machine. He shows willing, more than happy to have a go at what his troops do. It makes him a good leader but he must focus on what he's here to do.

So whilst the girls, more technically minded than us, sorted out sim cards and washing we got Hugh ready for Day 31 with his stretching warm up. Hugh is well used to this so gets on with it, making sure everything was loosened up. Jonny PR made an unwise move from heading up the Fluff Department and UK Desk by entering into the spirit. Alarmingly he began leaping and skipping with a sort of clucking noise, waggling his arms. We cautiously approached to hold him down lest he hurt himself but he did an abrupt turn and stopped, quietly cooing to himself. He was told firmly to not attempt this unsupervised again.

For the purposes of esprit de corps we did the final exercise together, called the lunge. This is to stretch the quadracep and is executed as follows: one moves the right leg suddenly forwards, into a position where the thigh is parallel with the ground, the other leg trailing. It resembles a chap who thinks of getting down on one knee to propose then sense suddenly prevails and he changes his mind, frozen in half kneel. Repeat the process with the alternate leg, continue for a minute and one is ready for action, thoroughly warmed up. There we were laughing away like schoolboys in a carpark, drivers staring uncomprehendingly at us. Bizarrely, this is the sort of stuff we'll remember.

Hugh ran strongly until his first quick break after two hours and was then joined by Jonny for a quick seven miles. Pasta for lunch, cooked in a lay by in the campervan, cosy with all of us in there and then Hugh continued along the long flat roads gradually running into a more built up area outside Bordeaux. In order to get to the hotel (about 15km away) at a reasonable hour, Hugh was given a lift by Gavin and Emma whilst Jonny and I tried to park the beast in Bordeaux. This last bit took approximately 2 hours and we worked out H could have run this distance quicker than we drove and parked.

Straight to a restaurant when we got in and we all enjoyed another excellent meal with a magnum of Fronsac. Tough life, this.

4 hrs 34 minutes. Fast and flat.

Sixty percent done now, Hugh's definitely broken the back of this. Another day on flat, good roads and Hugh out and back in a great time.

This is an area of cultivated forest, so the gps informs me. Pine is grown for the pulp to be turned into paper in the local factories. Geometric areas have been cleared of woodland and in places, re-planted, no doubt a planned process. Pine grows quickly and produces soft straight timber, easy to transport and process.

This is ideal running country, good straight roads, quiet, tree lined of course and flat. Hugh therefore put in a quick time, not something he will want to do too much but today he felt he needed too. There have been a lot of distraction in the previous few days and this was a day for him to do what he felt. His legs are also getting tired after 15-20 miles and there may not be too many opportunities for quick times once the roads get busier and more undulating.

An eventful day. Samia got bitten by a spider in the night and had an allergic reaction so was rushed off to the doctor, accompanied by Emma. She was cheery despite her obvious discomfort when she joined us on the road later and at least managed to grab some sleep in the campervan, admittedly not the best place for recuperation but at least there are other people around which I think helps.

The start of the run was unassuming enough but the road eventually led to a military installation which appeared to be nothing but a high fence and an inviting road the other side. There was no one around but a strange phone box was oddly positioned by the fence. We had a couple of laptops and various gismos on the dashboard which probably didn't help our chances of entry and despite several attempts were turned away, by a voice repeatedly informing Jonny to leave the area. A fighter jet roared low past us a few minutes after we left showing what the place was used for so Jonny stopped taking pictures of the 'photgraphie interdit' sign.

Passing through a tiny village later, with the requisite church, small central square and bar we stopped for a coffee. This was lunchtime in rural France and therefore a soporific time for the locals, mainly old boys who sat over empty bottles of the region's red. Jonny spread the word about the 50in50 challenge, handing out flyers. They were driven to expletives reading these, one particularly inebriated chap getting each salient point 5 minutes after everyone else. We left as Hugh trotted past, the discussion just starting to go strong, less to do with Hugh perhaps than a new subject on which they could converse and possibly disagree.

I ran the last few miles with Hugh along a track cut into the woodland, where there were stacks of timber. It had become clear that the roads were straight in order to allow the trucks unfettered access from loading up to unloading in the towns. Each conurbation we passed had a revolting eggy smell but we didn't realise why until we got to our next destination; the town of Bigamos. This has a large pulping plant and presumably the smell is sulphur dioxide (I only got an C in Chemistry so don't bother writing in). This is a town one imagines proliferates in middle America; small, without pavements, with motels and a few bars along otherwise featureless roads.

Later we ate in a restaurant across from our hotel, just behind one of the factories belching out toxic smoke, not expecting much. It was run single handedly by a tired but pleasant lady who produced the most outstanding food. Places like this are always worth visiting. It just shows what you can do irrespective of location or circumstances and the place was packed.

As we get ready to leave our hotel once more it is clear that each place we visit is part of this journey even if we just see a snapshot. Bigamos reminds me of the town in the film The Deerhunter where everyone works in the same plant which dominates the town. Unpleasant perhaps but not bland. It has an identity which is something. So we troop off, with our little rituals - Hugh with the Holy water, applying it to his forehead and all areas where he has had an injury, me with never quite finding what I want in my bag and everyone else; permanent and temporary members of this caravan with their own little ways.

Off to Bordeaux next with its obvious attractions.

4hrs 57mins. Cruise control.

Blogs from Day 28 and 27 now live

Regained control of matters today. The team eased along in 5th gear, ably assisted by Jonny who shows no signs of wishing to return to his day job.

Apart from being threatened by a butcher with a Bayonne ham before I moved our support vehicle from outside his shop to the centre of the town square, we did OK today.

Hugh was joined by Jonny for the first half marathon. I rued the ease with which they both banged this one out. This was a super flat course, through forest on good roads. Hugh looked very good on this. I'd be itching to do this if the old Achilles would behave itself but have contended myself with doing pull ups on bus stops and remedial exercise (physical, not mental) to get back up to speed. We had our first running groupie - a super old chap who heads up the local trail running club brought a buff for both Hugh and Jonny, (a sort of material tube, the purpose of which one is never sure). Hugh wore it on his head, Smurf like, whilst Jonny arranged it round his neck like Quentin Crisp.

No drama today which is just fine. Gavin, our old friend - whom H and I first met in the 2004 Marathon des Sables - joined us with his girlfriend Emma. If nothing else, the wine bill will increase. Welcome female company for Samia who is apparently bored of discussing nonsense with blokes. Honestly.

It has occurred to me that my comments regarding Hugh may have bordered on the saccharine. Therefore I should tell you what he now resembles: a Korean weightlifter's legs, partly shaven; a spare frame despite the amount of Snickers he eats and an increasingly weathered face. He loves this running stuff and sits amongst his running shoes each day working out which pair to select, just like a girl; with a beard.

We stay at another beach resort this evening in Mimizan-Plage. Wet again but we understand this is nothing compared to the UK. Tommorrow looks OK - the route generally flat though as ever we must be vigilant in case Hugh heads for Lisbon or steps on a pine cone. Certain members of the team, mainly from the fluffy department have been threatening a morning swim for the past few days. The Atlantic in March. Why on earth not? Hugh is not allowed, a dictate with which he is in total agreement.

4 hrs 45 mins. A Scottish summer - four seasons in one day and in difficult circumstances.

This is getting a bit daft. Today was supposed to be a day when things calmed down, the media circus leaving town leaving Hugh with a generally flat run further up to a quieter part of the French coast . The run was duly completed but with an element of drama.

The run from Biarritz started from the previous day's finish point at the lighthouse. The weather was utterly filthy, wind and rain buffeting our high sided campervan. Lots of people crowded in and there was last minute filming before Tripod and Tim caught their flight out. Hugh was trying to get ready in the melee but found that his backpack containing passport, water reservoir and bespoke running insoles was mislaid. He was very tired anyway and this is the last thing he needed. Despite everyone's help (Toby and Tim jeapordising catching their flight driving round town to all the places it could have been left), we couldn't find it. Having no time to further delay the run he made a start, with Jamie from Media Tree (one of our sponsors) lending him his camelback.

The weather continued to be mercurial, hail at one point followed by warm sun. Strangely enough though, the run went well. There is some release in just being out on the road unable to do anything but concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Jamie did a great job of staying with Hugh for 16 miles and later walked the last couple of miles with him. For Hugh this was a day of just getting it done, fortunately the old insoles holding up in lieu of the new. The run was varied - the boulevards of Biarritz giving way to the industrial seascape of Bayonne, haulage and timber yards lining long, straight, blustery roads. The last half was along forest roads, remarkably similar to those in coastal Portugal which now seems a lifetime ago.

During the day, the backpack was located. Max at Media Tree in London had done a great job of talking to the Biarritz police (the benefits of an international operation you understand) and a blue rinse grande dame of the town had handed it in. As the passport is a legal document Hugh had to pick it up in person. Options were for it to be sent to the British consulate in Bordeaux and collect it there or do a whacky races trip back to Biarritz after the day's play. Stumps drawn, Hugh legged it into the mean machine, and whilst he was massaged by Samia, Jonny PR navigated and I coaxed the old bus down to our day's start point once more. We made it just before the police station closed at 8pm.

Feet up blowing smoke rings over a brandy? Not a chance. A long drive back to our hotel to find it closed despite having phoned earlier. 'A-ha' we tutted and feeling a little weary of the day's little tests drove around in a very rural area trying to find a hotel, avoiding closed up places out of The Shining. Just after 10pm we found a beacon in the night, closing up for the evening but they found us rooms and fed us even though the kitchen had closed. This was their first day in business, the mayor had attended the opening and they had their first adventurer guest. I must give it a plug owing to their sheer hospitality. Hotel Cote D'Argent in Vieux Boucau les Bains. A splendid two star with five star food.

Tasty blonde lady owner as well. Jonny PR was shameless 'Mais oui-ing' all over the shop throwing his hair this way and that coquettishly trying it on. All I have at my disposal was the sad tale from school of Madame et Monsieur Dupont and their petit chien struck by lightning outside their windmill whilst chasing the pet monkey. 'Mon singe et dans l'arbre' I muttered sadly in defeat whilst chewing on a splendid entrecote de beouf in between sips of a lightly chilled Buzet.

All ended well with a reasonably tired 50in50 team grabbing some sleep, post midnight as usual. Samia wasn't well unfortunately but has now recovered and never waivers in her treatment of Hugh in difficult circumstances, often treating him on the go. Ice is no longer readily available nor baths, not great for Hugh as this the ice helps prevent inflammation. Bags of petit pois may have to suffice. He carries on with good humour without any melodrama. It's very telling to see how people react to circumstances thrust upon them and he does so calmly, philosophically and with practicality despite the fact he has to get up and run yet another marathon in the morning. He could do with a trouble free day tomorrow. The route will be flat at least. We all grind on, day dreaming of 8 hour sleeps.

Apologies for the irregularity of blogs but we have limited time at the moment and are having problems getting hold of a French sim card for the mobile internet phone thingy I plug into the lappy and also have limited availability of wifi at hotels. Our carrier pigeon got eaten in a weak moment and our messenger's horse is lame. No doubt you are all in hand wringing despair. A few despatches are making it through the lines so bear with us. Alternatively If you're thinking 'what is this chump on about?' I would advise you to switch off Coronationside and tune into this. It's certainly eventful.