A Desert Odyssey

One of the coolest animals on Earth has to be the camel.

Their walk is more like a strut, whilst their chewing style (side to side) has a strangely hypnotic effect on me. Although the sounds of this great creature may not be considered “charming”, the deep rumble is awesome, and commands your attention. And the size. By God the size. For some reason I always thought they’d be about the same size as a horse, but in terms of height, two horses would be more accurate.

With the foreboding size in mind, you can imagine the look on my face when a large male camel decided he had a problem with the camel I was on, and made what can only be described as a charge towards us. “Holy shit!” I waved a final goodbye to Lise on her camel, and braced for death.

Fortunately these camel drivers are experienced young men, despite the fact that they hadn’t yet reached pubity (I was convinced mine was actually still a bed wetter). They managed to pull the raging rouring rogue camel under control, and my life was once again spared.

Riding camels in the desert, and sleeping beneath the endless night sky, far from any big city lights, was probably the first thing I was really looking forward to when we scratched together a rough itinierary for India many months ago. I wasn’t to be disappointed.

Our base for the “safari” was in a small village about 40km West of Jaisalmer, which is the last significant Indian outpost town (30k population) before you hit the Thar Desert, on the other side lies which India’s friendly neighbours – Pakistan.

The entire night was a surreal experience for so many reasons. Riding out to the dunes in the pitch black of night, not knowing if your camel is about to step in a massive ditch (thus resulting eventually no doubt in being crushed by the beast) was slightly cause for concern. I would have felt much more comfortable had we plonked some night vision goggles on the end of the camels nose.

Once a significant distance from the village, we set up beds on the dunes, and lay there facing the millions of stars looking back at us above. I put Lise to sleep with a detailed astronomy lesson, and after clearing my head of thoughts, I nodded off in blissful peace. It was heaven.

I awoke several times in the night, and spent anywhere from 5 minutes to half an hour just watching the sky. The Milky Way was sprawled across the Northern sky. Venus was shining more brightly than ever. The moon eventually rose and seemed to stare back at me like some glowing joyful face.

When we awoke at 6.30am, we were hungry, we had sand in our things, we were in need of shower, we were tired, and there were dozens of dung beetles sharing the warmth of our beds with us. But we didn’t care. The sun emerged, and at that moment I thought to myself, “now the trip has truly started.”

Jaisalmer

Although no people reside in the actual fort castle itself, it’s not completely devoid of living creatures. Myself, I’m no fan of bats. They give me the shivers. I think their evilness is matched only by cats, mosquito’s and panda cubs. However the advantage of travelling with a female companion is that quite often you’re made to feel like a real man. Lise was positively terrified when, towards the end of the self-guided tour of the castle, with the ceilings not much more than 3 metres high, we came across an infestation of bats hanging above us. It was an Indiana Jones moment, which I seized without hesitation. I whisked (neh, carried) Lise, who was hysterical with fright and yet frozen to the floor, through the remaining two rooms and in to the open air. If I’d have had a whip, I’d have used that somehow in the escape to be sure.
Despite the bat incident, it was impossible not to be charmed by Jaisalmer, and in hindsight, a longer stay would have been nice. Whether it was the fort itself; a living breathing home for a quarter of the city’s 50,000 inhabitants, or the winding streets of the Bazaars below in the old town, Jaisalmer stood head and shoulders above the few towns we had visited so far.

The fort at Jaisalmer rises ominously out of the desert, resembling a giant mystical sand castle. Once you’re directly beneath it, as our hotel almost was, the size and structure can only impress. Considering the fact that it’s slowing eroding away (due to an increase in water flowing though it’s pipes – in turn due to an increase in tourism), we made a conscious decision (with the assistance of the Lonely Planet) not to stay at one of the hotels inside the fort. We’re far from Greenpeace hippies, but there is no excuse not to do little things like that to help with conservation.