Practice makes perfect

By the time I ventured on a third desert safari, I realised how blasé I had become.

The first time remains etched in memory as one had no idea what to expect. Once the 4WD started its antics on the dunes, I was reduced to terror-stricken silence. Eyes wide open, I mentally dared the seemingly deranged driver to plunge down the side of a steep slope. I was sure he would have a change of heart at the last moment and steer the vehicle out of harm's way.

Imagine my horror when he actually went for it, making short shrift of my belief in human wisdom. Seeing that he was intent on making this outing an adventure to remember, I decided to close my eyes. What the eye couldn't see, it couldn't fear. How wrong I was. The stomach-churning motion began, making me acutely aware of every twist, turn, leap and loop. Just as I thought the nightmare was over and briefly opened my eyes, I was met by the sight of the vehicle poised on the edge of a high dune, ready for take-off. As those orbs quickly shut again, the mouth gaped open in a reflex action and the screaming started. My guest for whose benefit I had booked this trip fixed her awed gaze on my contorted face even as she tried to suppress her embarrassment. But it was too late to disown me now. The other occupants of the vehicle had seen us board at the same stop and heard us conversing with an easy familiarity that betokened a long acquaintance. However, I did notice her shifting slightly away from me and looking pointedly out of the window.

I am only grateful that the idea of capturing my reactions on film never occurred to her. The camera lay forgotten in her bag in the excitement of the drive.

By the time we stopped to view the sunset, there was no feeling left in me. The wonders of nature were hard to appreciate after that bone-jarring, gut-wrenching ride. All I could be thankful for was that my feet rested on terra firma at last. The drive to the camp a little later was accepted in mute resignation to my fate. But the thrills were now a thing of the past as we drove at a moderate pace over level ground for the most part. It was as if the driver had recovered from a brief rush of blood to the head.

Dim memory

By the time the second such trip came round, the first was but a dim memory. This time my companion was male, reason enough to make a conscious effort to put on a brave face. There was no way I was going to subject myself to scornful looks signifying utter comprehension over what he might view as exaggerated emotions. So, screams were downgraded to low moans and each time the 4WD was poised on the edge of madness, I wisely closed my eyes and recited lines of poetry to take my mind off that death-defying leap.

The conscious effort to feel a nonchalance I did not possess was almost my undoing when, on reaching the camp, my companion walked up to the camels lined outside. Beckoning imperiously to follow his lead, I soon found myself sitting gingerly on one. As it rose, I managed to slide smoothly forward, measuring my length along its decidedly uncomfortable back. The sound of low amused laughter propelled me upwards. Dismounting presented its own challenge as I once again slid forward until my face was buried in its neck. I watched in awe as the other riders got off in one smooth motion while I had to be scraped off its back. Was that a smirk on its face? I will never know for sure.

I am happy to reveal that by the third outing I had become a pro. This time it was I who watched with amusement the horror on my companion's face, chiding her for being faint-hearted. Never once did I divulge my ignominious behaviour on my maiden trip. Some truths are best kept secret.