Sitting here with my head against the window, music playing through my ear “buds” I feel a sense of something I can’t explain. I knew even before the first step in the Sahara, today would be a deeply emotional one for me. The moment I stepped from the car nearly a week ago and saw Pauline with her fabulous pink hat I knew this was going to be a memorable week. On many levels. The excitement in the car on the way to the airport was more than you could imagine anyone feeling, especially at 4:45am in the morning. Poor Mr Smith must have thought he’d picked up a school trip by accident.
Wow! Well that’s a birthday Claire won’t forget in a hurry. Our lovely Claire was 40 yesterday. 18 miles she had walked over stones and boulders – with her dodgy knees 😉 And then we and the camp had a surprise for her at dinner. Elaine was charged with keeping her occupied while the camp boys dressed the mess tent with balloons, banners and fairy lights. They had even baked a cake and brought a bottle of wine for the occasion. We had all (thankfully) eaten and were just settling into a glass of red to celebrate with a piece of cake when suddenly Bang! The whole mess tent shifts with the wind. Bang! a corner leg is down. “Tent down”. Bang! There goes another. There followed much activity as folk held onto the central pole, held up the sides while Ahmed, Ibrahim “Brian”, Dawoud “David” ran around the outside trying to re-erect poles and make it safe again. We knew the wind had got up, but not to this extent. We had arrived in camp to find them re siting the toilet tent to a more sheltered location. You would need your boots and torch and a ball of string to find it (and your way back) to the tent tonight. I say “toilet tent”. Imagine a plastic pedal bin (it wasn’t but I mistook it for that on Day 1), sat over a hole, inside a makeshift frame covered in green polythene. With said polythene now flapping wildly and horizontally in the breeze I doubt many would bother trying to protect their modesty in there tonight.
“I wonder if they could just leave me in my sleeping bag and put me over the back of the camel?”.
“Morning!”. I woke with a start. What time is it? 5:30am. Gosh I have slept the whole night. I hadn’t even heard Rosie leave in the middle of the night and return to the wrong tent. And we were sleeping literally a foot apart. I had had to excuse myself early after supper last night as my migraine had set in. My head was pounding, I felt feverish and sick. All symptoms also associated with dehydration but I knew it wasn’t that, I was drinking lots and taking on supplements, salts etc. No – lack of sleep had finally taken its toll and so it needed to run its course. I popped a couple of Migraleve kindly given by my fellow trekker Elaine and took to my bed. As I lay with my ear plugs in and my travel pillow pulled up over my ears I must have looked a sight. I could hear the rhythmic sound
“Morning!”. Pauline’s greeting each morning never fails to make me smile. It’s 5:30 am and the camp has stirred. A couple of tents with music on, others quietly coming round. I fall into the latter, I like to gently wake, like the dawn turns night into day. Even the Maroc Nature team seem to rise slowly and quietly, awaiting the first voice from our tent before beginning their morning routine. The mess tent is first to come down and pack away – breakfast in the open and then little by little they dismantle camp and load the train of camels.-
Recent Posts
- Ten Things You May Encounter on a Trekker Walk
- Jennifer, Me and Keara Makes Three
- Reflections and RICE
- Thistles and Thoughts
- Jumping Jack Roseisle Jellyfish
- It’s Good for the Sole
- A Trip Down Memory Lane
- The Whole Six Harbours, Seals and All
- Just Around the Corner
- So What Happens Now?
- Sahara: Epi(b)logue
- Sahara: The Final Steps..
Archived Posts
Categories