Have you ridden a camel? 

Gigi clings to 'Humperdink' in the Sahara Desert

Have you ridden a camel into the sand dunes of the most famous desert on the planet?

I held that little fantasy of riding across the Sahara Desert, wind blowing in my hair on board a glorious camel and imagined it would be something like being whisked along on a magic carpet!

Well, I held that view and I lived the dream so I shall start at the beginning. 

Mr G and I travelled to Morocco a few years ago and one of the exciting parts of the whole adventure was to ride a camel into the Sahara.  My dream was to be fulfilled!

About nine or ten days into our exotic holiday, we were already dealing with horrendous stomach issues.  You do in Morocco; it’s one of the hazards. 

We were travelling with adventure group Exodus and many of the group had come down with the dreaded intestinal bug and some were unfortunately about to miss the ‘camel trip of a lifetime’.   I, at that point in time, was completely devoid of all stomach contents, and I had taken the course of abstaining from eating with the theory “if it doesn’t go in, it doesn’t come out”!!!! 

I was not about to miss the opportunity of “riding the magic carpet”!  I was there and that was it!!! 

We were staying at a ‘gite’ on the edge of the golden sand.  This ‘gite’, whilst most likely falling into the ‘luxury’ category for gites, was very basic!!!    Fortunately Mr G and I had scored an ensuite of sorts, which whilst convenient, emitted a hideous aroma.  But, you are on an adventure, you have an ensuite, you grin and bear it! 

The camels were brought around to the gite after midday.  The camels eyed us as eagerly as we eyed them!  They were big, huge in fact, and on the very top of their humps sat the pack of wadding that we would be sitting on.  It looked a long way up! 

The only thing to hang onto was a small metal hook that poked out in front of the pack at about groin level.  If you ask me, that location is not a very good spot as far as getting your balance is concerned.  I like handles around the chest level for complete stability!!!  This was not to be the case.

Each of us was introduced to ‘our’ camel.  Mine had been lovingly named Humperdink and for some reason he was much taller than the one Mr G was escorted to.  Now how did that happen!!!

I threw one leg over the wadding and grabbed hold of the hook as though my life depended on it.  Up rose the camel and there I was, teetering on the pack of wadding, my legs stretched as wide apart as possible and I felt as though I  was a hundred feet from the sand. 

I was completely terrified.  All thoughts of my sensitive stomach had dissolved into thin air.  My mission for the next few hours was to cling onto this animal with all my might. 

We set off in 6 camel groups linked only by ropes.  That is when I became really scared.  There was no-one in control of this thing except the tail of the camel in front.  I was perspiring more than the sweat from the 40 degree heat!!!!

Into the sand dunes we disappeared.  When you go up a sand dune, every thing is fine, but going down is quite another thing.  The camel runs.  Oh yes, the camel runs.  It runs very fast.  It runs down the sand dune for all its worth and I remember clinging onto that miserable hook which had the habit of completely disappearing far beneath me.  My body took on a position of a 45 degree downwards lean and a somersault was possibly the next bodily action I was about to undertake.  This was not good!

Mr G grimly remarked that his legs were in agony.  I gave him a wane smile to let him know he was not alone in his predicament.  In a moment of true genius, one of the girls had swung her leg over the pack to ride side saddle.  I was desperate for a change in riding position so somehow I managed the difficult manoeuvre.    

All was well!   I was still on board and much more comfortable.  I felt like Laurence of Arabia in this altered position but there were new things to consider.  Being comfortable is one thing but balancing in a sideways position when running down hill becomes more than Herculean feat and I can actually summon up the feeling of panic I remember it so well!!   I was positively petrified as the muscles bulged out of my left arm like a prize fighter as I clung to stay on, and a pain developed deep in my left side as I leaned awkwardly towards the hook. 

Did I mention the view?  Oh my, the vista was totally spectacular.  You know, imagine being way up on a camel and looking across endless sand dunes as the sun goes down,   Not many people get a chance to do this and I will never forget the vision when I indeed had the chance to look!

The camel ride itself became an endurance test.  We eventually stopped for a drink from our canisters.  This meant the camels had to ‘sit’ down so we had the opportunity to disembark and stretch our legs.  A few moments of horror ensued as Humperdink lurched and bent himself onto the sand.  I can honestly say ‘barely walk’ and ‘in agony’ were the words to describe my body at that stage. I looked across to see Mr G falling off sideways into the sand in an effort to extract himself from the saddle.  I could see he was fairing worse than me.  His face said it all.   He had ceased to enjoy the camel ride!!

The problem with this moment was, you know you still have a few more hours to put in before you reach the Bedouins Camp and then in the morning, it’s the complete re enactment to return to the ‘gite’.  You feel peeved that you did not bring your painkillers.

Back on the camel, and it was then I decided it would be best if I fully concentrated on what I was seeing, and try to obliterate all other sensations.  I pretended I was the Queen of Sheba, silk scarf flying in the breeze with good old Humperdink doing his thing beneath me.  It was time to really take in the view. 

The colours, oh, the colour of sunset on the sand dunes was utterly spectacular.  You cannot describe such a wondrous vision and do it justice I am afraid.  From my perilous position I took photographs and believe me, it was worth the risk!! 

After another hour or two, we finally made it to the Camp.  The camels were hobbled and set free and we were given the offer to sleep under a piece of old hessian dragged over some sticks, another name for a ‘Bedouin camp’!  I opted for sleeping under the stars, as did everyone else! 

One of the camel men disappeared into the hession hut to produce a meal.  I recall eating sliced orange and a tiny bit of rice as I had a real concern re the sanitary conditions and wasn’t prepared to risk a stomach relapse in the remote and ‘far from medical assistance’ location.  Call me paranoid if you will!!!!!

Mr G and I eventually hauled ourselves into our welcoming sleeping bags.  As we lay there, our weary saddle sore bodies enjoying the horizontal position, we took time to observe our surroundings. 

There, in the isolated oasis, a cool breeze blowing across the sand dunes and dancing across our faces, we were aware that there was absolutely no sound and the blackness was only broken by the millions of twinkling stars.  

There we actually were lying on the golden sands of the Sahara under the extraordinarily brilliant night sky. 

Now this was something else.  This was definitely worth it.

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