h

I eye the camels a little cautiously – I had been looking forward to the camel ride, but having seen the comical, lolloping gait of a running camel for the first time earlier that day, I begin to worry that my camel might suddenly feel the call of the desert winds and carry me off at a rollicking shuffle into its sandy depths. I whimsically pick the scruffiest-looking camel, and hope that she has a quiet nature.

I have been forewarned that riding a camel is uncomfortable, but as I hoist myself up onto the precariously piled rugs on Scruffy's back, what I am most struck by is the total lack of control I will have. My legs dangle uselessly on either side of her flanks, and the T-shaped rod I have to hold onto offers no further hope of steering. I recall our new friend Amed's enchanting tales of camel racing in his youth, and wonder how this is even possible. But before I have time to ponder this any further, the camel rises jerkily to her feet, and we prepare to ride.

A wild excitement quickly settles in as we meander towards the distant Berber camp. The desert creeps up on you slowly – we have been crawling through empty landscape for a best part of the day, but only notice now how pebbles, dirt, and scrub have been replaced by the sweep of rusty dunes, the view ahead completely unbroken save the undulating line between earth and widening sky. As the sun slips downwards, our guide halts our train. We dismount, and cannot resist slipping off our shoes, relishing the feel of warm sand in the curl of our toes.

We play a while in the sands, our guide introducing us to the pleasures of “desert-skiing”, which involves a thrilling tumble down the slopes of the dunes before breathlessly racing each other back up to the top. There is a child-like joy to this, blissfully far-removed from anything that doesn't involve the up-and-down of the dunes. We are instructed to dig our feet in a scooping upward motion in order to navigate our way back up the slope – tiring work, but somehow immensely satisfying to think that we have been allowed to share in even this small desert secret.

All play stops, however, as we become enraptured by the sunset. We sit and do no more than stare at the sun burning deeper, the darkening light, the sand blushing a deep red as day turns slowly into night. We somewhat reluctantly dust off sandy fingers and toes, and then return to the camels to ride onwards through the thousand-starred desert skies.