The Impossible Journey

By Camel Across Arabia’s Great Southern Desert

The Empty Quarter is the world’s largest sand desert. Covering nearly a million square kilometers, it occupies an area larger than France. The sand surfaces can reach eighty degrees Celsius, searing anything that moves. No men live there year-round. It is a dead and empty land.

This is where two Canadian friends, three Bedu, 12 camels and I would attempt a journey that had not been made in more than 50 years. To cross the Empty Quarter in the style of this century’s early Arabian travelers. No modern conveniences, nothing to get in the way of experiencing the desert as the Bedu had lived for centuries.

Having never ridden a camel before or traveled in a major desert, it seemed implausible enough to qualify as a great idea. The naysaying of close friends, family members and government officials confirmed it. So we started out like most great adventurers of today – we looked on the Internet.

One year of research and planning, two trips to Arabia, six camel-riding lessons in Texas, and several Arabic lessons in Calgary later, we were ready for the desert. Kind of.

First we had to round up the team; the three Bedu and 12 camels that would allow us to cross the Empty Quarter. Then we had to figure out how to actually get on our camels.

Good or bad, traveling in Arabia today is similar to the rest of the world. People rely on vehicles to quickly get from point A to B. Camels, once revered as the ‘ships of the desert,’ are now primarily used for food and racing.

But for us, the expedition was not about getting from one point to another; we wanted to live close to the land and its people, to experience the hardships and camaraderie of traveling through the desert without a vehicle, or having one trailing us at every turn.

For the most part, we succeeded. However, throughout the journey, we struggled to reach cultural consensus with our Bedu teammates. They could never understand why we didn’t want the comfort, security and convenience of a vehicle. As a result, we were often plagued by the unexpected arrival of well meaning, Land Cruiser-driving supporters.

And while these expected visitors threatened to spoil the spirit of the journey, they also opened our eyes to the realities of how oil exploration has changed the area.

Because while our desert guides were able to teach us first hand about the fascinating culture of the Bedu, they also showed us how much their traditional way of life is rapidly being replaced by Western convenience and influence.

Theirs is a culture caught between two worlds, an advancing generic global culture and hundreds of years of traditions and beliefs in facing the rigeurs of the desert. This is the crossroads we found ourselves facing throughout the journey.

But we continued to persist. We were looking for a safe journey, but not a soft journey. And we found it. From climbing a 100 feet down a narrow, snake-infested well, to traveling, eating and sleeping though a three-day sandstorm, to taking Arabic names and wearing traditional clothing, we lived the desert way of life. We drank putrid water from rank goatskins, we endured unbelievable heat and dehydration, and we rode camels every step of the way. Through saddle sores, chasing fleeing camels, and dodging clamping jaws and half digested cud, we came to depend on and revere our camels.

In fact, saying goodbye to my camel, whom I had named Crazy Dancer, was the hardest part of the trip. I had just survived inescapable heat, unbelievably painful saddle sores, and dehydration, but nothing compared to saying goodbye to my trusted companion.

In the end, our journey did not go as planned. We went into one of the most inhospitable unchartered environments on earth, and imagined we could control the outcome. But far bigger forces were at work in the desert. From the indomitable will of our Bedu guides and camel convoy, to the very desert itself. We struggled at almost every step, whether it was with each other, the Bedu, or the camels.

But we also came away with far more than we ever could have imagined. We learned the geography and history of Arabia. We learned the culture and traditions of the nomads, including their language and religion. We also learned about some of the less exciting aspects of adventure like confusing diplomatic protocols and courting and maintaining relationships with sponsors. We also learned the importance of sharing what we had experienced by initiating an education program that enrolled 22,000 thousand children from 19 countries around the world.

As I came to learn during my time in the desert, the only thing that I could ever be certain of was that nothing would be as I thought.

All in all, we spent three spectacular months in one of the severest spots on earth. We spent it as a team, and both good and bad, the entire experience, from start to finish, stands to test that anything is possible.