Camel Trekking

Just after Thanksgiving three PCVs and I went on a camel trek in the dunes outside Chinguetti. It was absolutely incredible. It made me fall in love with my site all over again. We headed out early in the morning, trekked for three hours, spent the afternoon at an oasis, slept overnight on the dunes, and returned the second morning.

The camel saddles themselves are horribly uncomfortable. We all bruised our inner thighs. The temperature overnight dropped into the high 30s – who knew the desert got so cold? – but despite the discomforts it was a blast.

After three hours of trekking we arrived at the oasis, where we unloaded a snowboard and some ski boots donated to us by tourists who passed through Chinguetti. We planned to board down the dunes. I have never snowboarded so I was a little nervous, but thankfully sand produces a lot more friction than snow, meaning we didn't go very fast.

A dozen children spied on us as we first mounted the dune. As soon as they saw us board down the dune though, they ran at us shrieking and giggling. Our resident expert snowboarder had gone first, and just as soon as he removed the board the kids grabbed it from his hands and started carrying it up the mountain of sand. When they arrived at the top they deferentially handed the board to the two of us waiting at the top.

From then on, each time one of us darted down the sand the kids ran and rolled after us, snatching the board from our hands and bolting up the hill again.

After a half hour we started chatting with the kids, excited to show off our basic Hassaniye skills. We also decided we would turn the snowboard into a sled and we asked if they wanted to join us. However, when they responded we realized their dialect of Hassaniye was distinct than anything we knew. This oasis in the middle of the desert, and the four families who lived there, was so removed from the rest of Mauritania that their language had evolved on its own.

Perhaps it was because the kids didn't understand our words, or maybe they were just nervous about these white people and their weird toys, but none of the kids joined me on the first sled ride. But as soon as they realized what I was doing they scrambled after me and jumped on the makeshift sled en route. I suddenly had twelve kids lunging at me, each trying to secure a place to sit, until we all fell off the the board and watched it continue down the hill without us. Now I joined the chase, and for the first time I ran down the dune's steep slope. My feet sunk further into the sand with each step; the sand was soon swallowing half my lower leg each step until, unable to budge, I fell. I became a jungle gym instantly.

From that point on the kids joined us on every trip down the hill, dutifully carting the board back up for us. The kids even argued over who would carry the board each time, each trying to prove his or her physical strength to us and to the other kids. We didn't mind. Walking up the dune was tough enough without carrying the board.

That night we returned to the desert to sleep. We exchanged treats with our camel guides: we made mochas (Nesquik and Nescafe) and they made bread by burying dough in a pit of coals. We then bundled up – I wore a fleece, a wool sweatshirt, two pairs of pants and two pairs of socks, and I was huddled inside a large blanket and a sleeping bag – and went to sleep. There was no moon, but the sky looked almost grey because there were so many stars littering the black backdrop.

In the morning we returned to Chinguetti via camel, though three of us walked because we were still sore from the previous day's trek, and that same afternoon my friends returned to their respective sites.

If I weren't so scared I'd get lost in the dunes (a death sentence) I'd try to return to the oasis on my own. I guess I'll just have to wait until the next time I have visitors who want to go on a camel trek. Any takers?