Travel Stories

February 11, the Great Thar Desert, India, by Xerxes Marduk

Part 3

After another staple breakfast we mounted our now familiar camels and continued riding to complete the circuit and bring us back to our jeep pickup point. I think everybody would agree with me that the first 30 minutes were hall on our sore bodies, but after this warming up period we all settled into a rhythm with our camels that felt like a comfortable and joyous reunion. Riding on a camel is a big like riding on a small boat at sea; once you can get into a rhythm you can get a whole lot more comfortable. After nine or ten hours on these particular boats we were riding the seas with no problems.

Our camels traveled over the undulating waves of sand occasionally jostling with each other to be in the lead. Each rider has their own style of controlling their camel, which became apparent to me at this late sage in the trip. Some kept their camel on tight reins, jerking their head this way and that by the ropes connected to a wooden cross bar through the soft parts of their camels noses. I adopted a lasse-faire approach, where I hardy touched the reins and let my camel pick its own way over the shrubs and around the cactus plants. It seemed to work quite well, as others were forever trying to steer their mounts down the path they thought was best, more often than not just confusing and angering their camels.

We reached a point in the desert indistinguishable from any other, and were told to dismount. Here we waited for the keep to take us back to town. A comic scene ensued as the tourists ran around trying to figure out how much, and to which camel driver, their tip should go. They looked a bit like nervous pigeons with a small dollop of money to give out and not wanting to shit on the wrong person. Eventually large amounts of money changed owners and everyone was happy with the outcome.

Our group had one last moment with our camels. Some patted them, some had their pictures taken with them, some were dared to kiss them (though nobody did), and one poor Englishman got spit on by his camel. Nobody spoke much on the keep ride back to Jaisalmer, there was really nothing that needed to be said. We arrived in the late afternoons warm rays of sunlight dusty, smelly, and aching. But with our heads held high, and a lightness in our step; secure in the knowledge that we had gone out into the desert and had come back with a wisdom that would take a lifetime of cultivation.

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