I was leading a group of people, for Across the Divide, on a five day trek through the desert, a maze of golden sand dunes, rocky valleys and wide wide open spaces which could take a day to cross. I arrived a day earlier than the group in order to meet the in-country agents and ensure that everything was arranged correctly. The group was made up of 42 people, so I had to get it right. The route was in order and all the right food and provisions had been packed away. It was all looking ship shape.
Our first day involved a journey in a dilapidated truck that would take us from the outskirts of the desert into the dunes of the Sahara. The general consensus was that the Sahara was a sea of dunes, how wrong we were.
The Sahara is one of the hottest, driest and most inhospitable places on earth, and covers an area larger than the USA. It is made up of sand dunes but also boulder strewn plains where ceaseless winds and ferocious sandstorms have weathered rocks into weird sculptures. There are rocky plateaus, canyons and dried up river beds and small oases with date palms giving a minimal amount of shade. It is not a place for the faint hearted.
We had two good days of walking before the Sahara showed her true force, and there was nothing that we could have prepared ourselves for it. A wall of sand bore down on us in the middle of day three and remained with us for a gruelling 36 hours. Luckily we had all bought local scarfs and these were tied around our faces and over our noses so that only our eyes showed - from behind sunglasses. Our sunglasses took a real hit and have never really been the same since!
I made sure that everyone knew who was in front of them and if they lost sight of them then they should not move until the people behind had all caught up. The local agents were brilliant and we kept everyone in a tight group - I was not going to loose anyone in this storm! With myself at the back I would be sure that everyone was in front of me - although I could only see three people at any one time, the rest had been swallowed up by the sand storm. It was very disconcerting not being able to see the whole group but I trusted that they were all sensible and would follow my instructions.
The wind whistled by us, tearing at our clothes and blasting sand at us. At times the sheer force of the sand being thrown at us was very painful. The worst thing was when you opened your mouth to talk, and if your face was not well protected there was a mouthful of grit that played havoc with your teeth - akin to having your nails scratched down a blackboard.
Fours hours of purgatory later we found our campsite, all ready for us, and everyone spent the rest of the evening in their tents to escape the wrath of the desert. One tent blew down so we had to dig in every tent to ensure that it did not happen again. There was sand every where, even in my mint tea - how did it get there? Showers are not common in the desert, water being a rather valued commodity, so baby wipes were the order of the day. Never have so many baby wipes been used on an expedition. I needed five just to clean my face!
The wind was relentless through the night but in the early hours of the morning its tirade on us dissipated and it disappeared to persecute some other poor unsuspecting souls. The quietness was deafening. What a memorable experience, seeing the true soul of the desert. Despite this, I still loved her.
Back in England I discovered the Sahara in all sorts of places; my sleeping bag, my boots (although I could have sworn that I had cleaned them out), my toothpaste (?!) and there was still mementos coming out of my ears and nose.
I will never underestimate the Sahara. And I would go again, even if it was for a repeat of the same experience. Wonderful.
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