Jaisalmer, Wednesday 20 February 2013
On Monday morning, I made an early start to meet Vino, the camel safari guy, at the railway station in Bikaner, to do an overnight trek in the desert.
Standing at the railway station, a young black woman came over to me and asked if I was supposed to be meeting someone. Instead of simply saying yes and going with her, of course my suspicious head kicked in. This could be a new scam I haven't come across yet. I wasn't about to volunteer any information.
'Meeting who?' I asked, in terrible grammar.
'The guy who runs the guest house,' she said. 'You're not here to meet someone? I don't know. He just asked me to come get you.' She pointed over to a jeep, into which Vino was loading something. OK, on seeing him, it was time to relent. I crossed the road with her and Vino, whom I'd met the day before, greeted me. He got me some chai as he explained that he hadn't felt comfortable sending me off on my own, so he decided to have me join in with the American woman and her boyfriend on the first day of their three-day camel trek. After a few introductions, we piled into the jeep and headed off, soon swapping the city for rural desert.
As we passed by a border force garrison, he told me a great story. Eleven years ago, in January 2002, the army was moving 200 trucks' worth of kit and ammunition, including rockets, in local trucks (so as not to show up as a mass military movement on satellite). A fire broke out in one of the trucks, which Vino said was likely due to the local drivers cooking food. I guess they missed the safety briefing! As well as the inevitable explosions, rockets started going off in all directions, killing a few people. The fire blazed all day. Here's more in an Indian newspaper, in case you're interested:
About 20km out of town, we pulled off the road, where three blokes, a boy and four camels were waiting. Vino handed us over into their capable hands and was off. One of the camel drivers beckoned me over to a camel sitting down in the sand, indicating for me to put one foot in the stirrup. I swung my leg other leg over its wide back and I was on. Now to get upright. He had me hold onto the front of the saddle, as the camel first got up on its back legs, tipping me forward, and then raised itself up at the front.
With the process repeated for the American couple, they backed the fourth camel into the harness of a small cart, carrying our luggage and supplies, and we were off. We passed through a small village with huts sealed with mud and topped with straw. Most of the villagers seemed to have a camel in their enclosure. Children waved at us, and villagers called to the camel drivers, seeming to know each other.
Leaving the village behind, we were soon surrounded by desert on all sides, passing just the odd isolated hut. Then a field of green would appear, divided by pipes spitting out thin jets of water for irrigation. Wheat, the camel driver said.
We saw some antelope, and a rather more brave fox that crossed the track ahead of us. It was such a blissful experience, lumbering along on your camel, following behind the cart and the other couple. A retreat from the usual chaos.
I love camels - I think it's their nonchalant expression, as if to say, 'You talking to me? Not interested.' Mine was the oldest of the four. At ten years old, she was a middle-ager, half way to their 20-year life span. Like I was doing myself, she looked left and right, taking in her surroundings.
At lunchtime, we stopped under a tree whose canopy cast a nice wide shade and the camel drivers got busy making us lunch. We had chapatis made there on the fire, along with a cauliflower and tomato curry. Delicious. I couldn't have done it in a kitchen with all mod cons! There was time for a walk around the scrubby dunes around us before they packed up and we set off again for another few hours, spotting more antelope as went along.
Meandering around various dunes and farms, it wasn't entirely clear to me what direction we were going in - whether we were doing a big circle or a linear route or what. With an hour to go before sunset, we arrived at our camp for the night. It was a permanent camp, with a few brick buildings coated with mud, and some big canvas tents. After we dismounted, two of our camel drivers headed off, leaving just the one who had cooked for us earlier, and the Americans and I surmised that they weren't coming back. As they didn't speak English, it wasn't quite clear exactly what was going on. Not that it really mattered to us - we were just going with the flow.
I took a walk up along the ridge of the dune in front of us before the sun began to sink. We were pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I could see what must have been the buildings of Bikaner off in the far distance but there weren't many buildings around us. Returning to the camp, I pulled up a patio chair and watched the sun go down while writing a letter. Not a bad way to pass an evening! Only the sounds of the birds, our dinner bubbling, the odd word passing between the remaining camel driver and an older man who was at the camp when we arrived - and some Hindi music reaching us from someone's stereo in the distance.
It was as the light began to go that the Americans realised they hadn't brought a torch. Reading a book by the light of my headtorch, I heard their discussion about how it would've been good to be able to play cards, and offered to sit near them so they could use the light of my torch. Dinner was ready within a few minutes, though... another delicious meal of lentil curry, chapati and rice. The cook refused to eat his own dinner until he'd served and re-served us. Once he could see that we'd had our fill, he plonked down on his mat and served himself and the older man.
It wasn't cold exactly once it was dark, but I was glad to pull on my fleece. After dinner, the cook and the old man piled up more brittle bush wood on the fire and it began to give off more heat and light. We sat around it for a while, chatting to the Americans, and then the cook showed me to my tent. It had two beds already in it - simple metal frames with canvas criss-crossed across to create the mattress platform. We grabbed a thick quilt and two thinner ones from one of the brick buildings, and he used the thick one as my mattress, with the others on top. The sky was slightly cloudy, and I wondered if it would rain in the night. It had rained a fair bit in the past week or so. I decided against pulling the bed completely outside the tent, and moved it over to the flap instead, which I pinned back so I could see the sky. It was so comfortable that I didn't enjoy it for long, though, falling asleep quite quickly. Waking up the odd time in the night, it was lovely to feel the desert breeze and hear the odd dog passing by.
I suppose it was about 8.30am before I got up and did some very basic ablutions. A jeep arrived, with Vino's brother-in-law there to take me back to the city, while the Americans carried on. He threw some bananas onto the fire for our breakfast and the cook toasted us some English-style bread - with a few cups of chai, of course.
Hopping into the front of the jeep, I thought to myself that it'd be quite fun to drive it. And I found myself saying so to the brother-in-law. A little further down the road, he pulled over and offered me the reins. Hooray! It was brilliant, bouncing along over the yumps and bumps on the track and through the sand - a bit like driving in snow, I suppose. I was in the Paris-Dakkar Rally! Fantastic!
My next vehicle ride wouldn't be have so much fun... but I'll write about that tomorrow!
On Monday morning, I made an early start to meet Vino, the camel safari guy, at the railway station in Bikaner, to do an overnight trek in the desert.
Standing at the railway station, a young black woman came over to me and asked if I was supposed to be meeting someone. Instead of simply saying yes and going with her, of course my suspicious head kicked in. This could be a new scam I haven't come across yet. I wasn't about to volunteer any information.
'Meeting who?' I asked, in terrible grammar.
'The guy who runs the guest house,' she said. 'You're not here to meet someone? I don't know. He just asked me to come get you.' She pointed over to a jeep, into which Vino was loading something. OK, on seeing him, it was time to relent. I crossed the road with her and Vino, whom I'd met the day before, greeted me. He got me some chai as he explained that he hadn't felt comfortable sending me off on my own, so he decided to have me join in with the American woman and her boyfriend on the first day of their three-day camel trek. After a few introductions, we piled into the jeep and headed off, soon swapping the city for rural desert.
As we passed by a border force garrison, he told me a great story. Eleven years ago, in January 2002, the army was moving 200 trucks' worth of kit and ammunition, including rockets, in local trucks (so as not to show up as a mass military movement on satellite). A fire broke out in one of the trucks, which Vino said was likely due to the local drivers cooking food. I guess they missed the safety briefing! As well as the inevitable explosions, rockets started going off in all directions, killing a few people. The fire blazed all day. Here's more in an Indian newspaper, in case you're interested:
About 20km out of town, we pulled off the road, where three blokes, a boy and four camels were waiting. Vino handed us over into their capable hands and was off. One of the camel drivers beckoned me over to a camel sitting down in the sand, indicating for me to put one foot in the stirrup. I swung my leg other leg over its wide back and I was on. Now to get upright. He had me hold onto the front of the saddle, as the camel first got up on its back legs, tipping me forward, and then raised itself up at the front.
With the process repeated for the American couple, they backed the fourth camel into the harness of a small cart, carrying our luggage and supplies, and we were off. We passed through a small village with huts sealed with mud and topped with straw. Most of the villagers seemed to have a camel in their enclosure. Children waved at us, and villagers called to the camel drivers, seeming to know each other.
Leaving the village behind, we were soon surrounded by desert on all sides, passing just the odd isolated hut. Then a field of green would appear, divided by pipes spitting out thin jets of water for irrigation. Wheat, the camel driver said.
We saw some antelope, and a rather more brave fox that crossed the track ahead of us. It was such a blissful experience, lumbering along on your camel, following behind the cart and the other couple. A retreat from the usual chaos.
I love camels - I think it's their nonchalant expression, as if to say, 'You talking to me? Not interested.' Mine was the oldest of the four. At ten years old, she was a middle-ager, half way to their 20-year life span. Like I was doing myself, she looked left and right, taking in her surroundings.
At lunchtime, we stopped under a tree whose canopy cast a nice wide shade and the camel drivers got busy making us lunch. We had chapatis made there on the fire, along with a cauliflower and tomato curry. Delicious. I couldn't have done it in a kitchen with all mod cons! There was time for a walk around the scrubby dunes around us before they packed up and we set off again for another few hours, spotting more antelope as went along.
Meandering around various dunes and farms, it wasn't entirely clear to me what direction we were going in - whether we were doing a big circle or a linear route or what. With an hour to go before sunset, we arrived at our camp for the night. It was a permanent camp, with a few brick buildings coated with mud, and some big canvas tents. After we dismounted, two of our camel drivers headed off, leaving just the one who had cooked for us earlier, and the Americans and I surmised that they weren't coming back. As they didn't speak English, it wasn't quite clear exactly what was going on. Not that it really mattered to us - we were just going with the flow.
I took a walk up along the ridge of the dune in front of us before the sun began to sink. We were pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I could see what must have been the buildings of Bikaner off in the far distance but there weren't many buildings around us. Returning to the camp, I pulled up a patio chair and watched the sun go down while writing a letter. Not a bad way to pass an evening! Only the sounds of the birds, our dinner bubbling, the odd word passing between the remaining camel driver and an older man who was at the camp when we arrived - and some Hindi music reaching us from someone's stereo in the distance.
It was as the light began to go that the Americans realised they hadn't brought a torch. Reading a book by the light of my headtorch, I heard their discussion about how it would've been good to be able to play cards, and offered to sit near them so they could use the light of my torch. Dinner was ready within a few minutes, though... another delicious meal of lentil curry, chapati and rice. The cook refused to eat his own dinner until he'd served and re-served us. Once he could see that we'd had our fill, he plonked down on his mat and served himself and the older man.
It wasn't cold exactly once it was dark, but I was glad to pull on my fleece. After dinner, the cook and the old man piled up more brittle bush wood on the fire and it began to give off more heat and light. We sat around it for a while, chatting to the Americans, and then the cook showed me to my tent. It had two beds already in it - simple metal frames with canvas criss-crossed across to create the mattress platform. We grabbed a thick quilt and two thinner ones from one of the brick buildings, and he used the thick one as my mattress, with the others on top. The sky was slightly cloudy, and I wondered if it would rain in the night. It had rained a fair bit in the past week or so. I decided against pulling the bed completely outside the tent, and moved it over to the flap instead, which I pinned back so I could see the sky. It was so comfortable that I didn't enjoy it for long, though, falling asleep quite quickly. Waking up the odd time in the night, it was lovely to feel the desert breeze and hear the odd dog passing by.
I suppose it was about 8.30am before I got up and did some very basic ablutions. A jeep arrived, with Vino's brother-in-law there to take me back to the city, while the Americans carried on. He threw some bananas onto the fire for our breakfast and the cook toasted us some English-style bread - with a few cups of chai, of course.
Hopping into the front of the jeep, I thought to myself that it'd be quite fun to drive it. And I found myself saying so to the brother-in-law. A little further down the road, he pulled over and offered me the reins. Hooray! It was brilliant, bouncing along over the yumps and bumps on the track and through the sand - a bit like driving in snow, I suppose. I was in the Paris-Dakkar Rally! Fantastic!
My next vehicle ride wouldn't be have so much fun... but I'll write about that tomorrow!
Thanks for good writing about Bikaner and our vino camel safari.
ReplyDeletevino
Hi Vino! Thanks for your comment on here. I really enjoyed the camel safari.
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