Entries about camping

Lake Natron Camp

We can see the camp from a distance, initially looking little more than dark pointy hillocks or large boulders on the landscape.

The 'boulders' are in fact large camouflage Bedu style net covers, hiding the accommodation. Like everywhere else we have been so far, a whole army of helpers arrive to help carry our stuff as soon as we pull up in the car, and we are ushered into the open mess tent which doubles as a reception.

After the usual formalities, we are shown to our tent. They are well spread out, making them very private. The whole tent, as I said, is under a huge fly sheet, offering shade from hot sun.

The accommodation is relatively spacious and offers three parts – first the screened veranda , with a couple of chairs and a table. The staff leave our lunch boxes here, which we brought with us from Kilimamoja this morning.

The main part has a large double bed, a writing desk and a day bed which in our case doubles as a luggage rack.

A partial wall separates the bedroom from the bathroom, where there is a wash basin, compostable eco-toilet and bucket shower.

We dump our stuff, change into swimwear and head down to the 'spa area'.

This is another area shaded by a large fly sheet, offering chairs, day beds and a couple of hammocks alongside a natural spring which feeds the main lake.

We take our picnic boxes with us and enjoy our lunch overlooking the spring and the marshland.

The main attractions here, however, as far as I am concerned, is the little freshwater spring. As soon as we step into the cool water, the endemic cichlids start to nibble at our feet.

For a number of years I have wanted to have a fish pedicure, but I have always been concerned about the hygiene in the tanks in British salons (they have since been banned in the UK for that very reason). Here, however, I have no such concern, and am loving every minute of it!

David, on the other hand, is way too ticklish to get pleasure from it, and merely dips his feet in briefly.

I could spend hours here, but the sun is very strong and I worry about my photo-sensitive dermatitis on my shins; so we reluctantly go back to the tent.

This area is affectionately known as 'Zanzibar' to the locals, as it is very much hotter than Arusha and the northern safari circuit. We try to have a little siesta, but it is really rather too hot to get any decent sleep.

The not-so-distant thunder than rumbles on and on and on doesn't exactly help. We prepare ourselves for a deluge, but it appears the storm travels all around us, and by the time we are ready for an afternoon excursion, it is thankfully still dry.

Malisa, ready to see what nature has to offer us this afternoon

Homenid Footprints

Malisa is taking us, along with a local Maasai guide arranged by the camp, to see some old footprints left on the mud flats. When we spoke with Malisa about it yesterday, he had some concern about whether we would be able to reach the site because of all the flooding, and indeed we do get a little lost this afternoon as the road has washed away.

The floods and subsequent receding water have left some strange formations in the mud.

When I say “some old footprints”, I am grossly understating, of course, these impressions captured for eternity are seriously cool.

Some 19,000 years ago, the nearby Ol Doinyo Lengai Volcano erupted, spewing out its innards down to the shores of the lake. Unable to outrun the fast flowing lava, the local people left their footprints in the hot magma as they made their desperate escape attempts.

Judging by the way the footprints are facing in different directions, it is assumed that the family (there are different sized prints too) were overcome with panic, unsure of which way to run.

While these imprints are seriously cool to see, I can only begin to imagine the anguish the people felt at the time, stepping on the ground which measured at 600 °C.

The Ol Doinyo Lengai is unique in that it is the only active volcano known to erupt carbonatite lava. What that meant for these people, is that the thin silvery lava flowed faster than they could run, so there was no escape.

Today the volcano looks peaceful.

From here we continue on foot down to the lake edge for bird watching.

Great White Pelican, Lesser Flamingo, Great Cormorant, Long Tailed Cormorant, Slender Bill Gull

Blacksmith Plover

Chestnut Banded Plover, our second lifer on this trip.

Eurasian Avocet - I love the way they move their head from side to side to stir up the bottom, just like a spoonbill.

Thomson's Gazelle

The Gang

Flamingos

As I said in my previous blog entry, this time of year normally sees thousands of flamingos descend on the lake to breed. Here the water evaporates leaving behind very high concentrations of soda. Algae and zooplankton thrive in this water, which in turn supports great numbers of flamingos. The combination of remoteness and the hostility of the soda mud-flats provides the flamingos with a relatively safe area to breed and rear chicks. This year, however, as a result of the heavy rains, the vast majority of them have remained at Big Momella Lake in Arusha National Park. We still see a few here though.

Greater Flamingo

Lesser Flamingo

There is a group of four South Africans staying at the camp tonight too, and we see them walking with their guide much nearer the lake edge.

They look rather unsteady as they cross a small stream, and I keep my camera handy should one of them take a tumble. I am all heart!

No-one fell!

We return to the camp via the spa area, where Malisa also finds the fish pedicure too ticklish!

Little Egret

White Throated Bee Eater

Sundowners

It is time to sit and watch the sunset with a drink or two.

The camp fire is lit, but the sunset is rather unimpressive.

It turns out we've all been facing the wrong direction, the clouds away from the sunset are colouring up beautifully!

Sustainable Tourism

Lake Natron Camp prides itself on being eco-friendly, with $15 per guest per night going to the local village (as well as an annual fee for rental of the land). It has been agreed that this money be used primarily for secondary education. They are also involved in community projects that have been requested by the villagers themselves such as building new classrooms at the school, teaching the local community about permaculture, making keyhole gardens in the local bomas and creating a vegetable patch by the school.

The camp employs local staff, with 19 Maasai woman working on a 6-week rotation to give an opportunity to other Maasai ladies who may wish to have a job here.

The structures are 100% removable, the toilets compostable with all human waste taken off the site. All kitchen waste is taken off site with all non-biodegradable waste removed to Arusha for disposal, while paper waste is incinerated. Limited charcoal for cooking comes from eco-friendly brickettes – made from recycled wood or coconut husk sources. The decking and furniture in the mess area and pool area, is made out of recycled plastic by a local company from discarded items collected from Arusha.

The glassware they use is from Shanga Shaanga. Over the years Shanga has grown to employ more than 60 people with a range of disabilities to make creative products including weaving, glass blowing, beading, paper making and metal work, using recycled materials wherever possible. We were lucky enough to visit this enterprise in 2011 and 2016.

Dinner

Once the colourful clouds have disappeared, we move on to the mess tent for dinner.

Tilapia fish from Lake Victoria - fish and chips Tanzania style

Ginger pudding with custard

By the time we have finished eating, the camp fire has gone out. So much for toasting marshmallows!

I set my camera up on a tripod with a wide angle lens to try and capture some of the amazing stars; but the bright moon and bottle of wine (as well as a couple of rum and cokes) that I have consumed this evening, renders it a complete failure.

Instead we watch parts of Malisa's wedding video on his laptop before retiring to our tent for the night.

Thank you Calabash Adventures for arranging this trip for us.

Ngoitoktok Springs

Probably the most popular picnic area within the Ngorongororo Crater, there are always a lot of people here, but it is a large enough area to find a spot to get away from the crowds.

Here you can see the crowds

And here we are away from them all

Not only is this place popular with humans, but we also share our breakfast with a number of different birds, who come for the rich pickings where guests drop food on the ground. They have become quite tame and will perch on your car, or sit on the ground below your chair, looking up with pleading eyes.

Helmeted Guineafowl

Little Egret

Black Kite

Great White Pelicans

Rufous Tailed Weaver

Egyptian Geese

Village Weaver

Blacksmith Plover

Superb Starling

Southern Masked Weaver

Little Egrets

Southern Masked Weaver

Black Kite

Litle Bee Eaters

I could stay here for ages, just watching life unfold around me – there is always something going on. We see zebra, elephants and wildebeest wandering through the outskirts of the site, and hippo frolic in the small lake, as well as numerous bird species as these pictures, all taken during our lunch stop, show.

An elephant saunters by

Wildebeest and Zebra

Hippo in the lake

Hippo poo floats to the surface of the water

I love seeing pelicans flying

Eventually we have to tear ourselves away from this beautiful place to explore some other parts of the crater.

A lone wildebeest

Grey Crowned Cranes

Kori Bustard

Common Fiscal Shrike

Zebra

Secretary Bird

Malisa spots a few feathers sticking up from between the thorns on the top of the acacia tree and stops the car.

She looks like she has stuck her talons in an electric socket ~ or maybe she is just shocked to see us.

Initially there is not much to see, but we hang around just in case she decides she is going to fly away, or at least maybe stand up.

Our patience is rewarded as after a while she decides to rearrange her nest a little.

Hippos

As well as the ones we see in the water, there are a few hippos out on land too.

Eurasian Avocet

I have never before noticed avocets eating the same way as spoonbills – pushing their long beak from side to side in the water.

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Lions

We come across a small dinner party, with two females and four cubs feasting on the carcass of a young zebra.

We stay for a while (although not as invited guests, more like gatecrashers), watching their eating habits and interactions.

This little lad may have bitten more than he can chew.

He's not really getting anywhere with the zebra's head.

He tries a different tactic.

But eventually he gives up.

Gradually, one by one, they've had their fill of fresh meat and wander off for a siesta.

Or maybe just a poo.

Children are such messy eaters.

Mum needs cleaning too.

“Play with me mum!”

Time for us to move on and “see what else nature has to offer” (Malisa's favourite saying).

Blacksmith Lapwing

Hadada Ibis

Superb Starling

Tree Pipit

Marabou Stork

Hildebrand Starling, often confused with the Superb Starling. The difference is that the Superb has a white line between the blue and the orange areas on the chest and a yellow eye against the Hildebrand's red.

Yellow Billed Stork

When we leave the crater by the usual Lerai Ascent Road, but at the top turn left down a private road rather than right towards the hotel on our planned itinerary, we realise that this is another one of Tillya's surprises. Tillya, the owner of Calabash Adventures, is constantly trying to exceed his customers' expectations and we often find ourselves upgraded to a different lodge than the one we thought we were staying in. Today is obviously going to be one of those occasions.

View of the crater from near the top of the Lerai Ascent Road

Ang'Ata Nyati Camp

The whole team of staff appear to have come out to greet us as we arrive at a small clearing. One by one they introduce themselves by name, handing us a very welcome wet flannel and a soft drink. The complexities and rules of the camp are explained to us and we are shown to the tents. The camp is very similar to mobile camps we have stayed in previously, but I am told that this is a permanent tented camp (rather than a 'mobile' camp that moves every few months, following the annual migration of animals), having recently relocated to the Nyati Special Camp Site from the other side of the crater. A small and intimate affair, the camp has a mere eight tents and tonight we have the 'palace' to ourselves as we are the only guests staying.

A local 'askari' (security guard/escort) takes us to our 'room', a basic tent with a wooden floor, large double bed, hanging space and a rudimentary en suite bathroom. Hot water is brought to the shower by request, in a bucket. I understand from their website that you are given 25 litres of hot water plus the same amount of cold. Mixing the two, the water temperature is just right, and if used sparingly, ample for two people to shower. As always in an area where water is a scarce commodity, I wet my body, then turn off the water while I wash and apply shampoo. Water back on again, rinse and repeat with conditioner.

We meet up with Malisa in the cosy and comfortable lounge/dining room for dinner. The food is superb and the staff is wonderful.

40th wedding anniversary celebrations

There was no doubt in Lyn and Chris' mind where they wanted to celebrate their special milestone, and I feel very honoured that they asked us to share this celebration with them.

When David's phone rings in the middle of dinner, he is surprised that he has a signal and worried that it may be bad news from home. The concern soon turns to indignation when he realises it is just an advert!

The camp staff make such a fuss of us, and after dinner the whole crew come out, bringing a cake and a complimentary bottle of wine, while walking around the table singing and dancing. We don't have the heart to tell them that the anniversary is not for another couple of days.

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Originally released as a record back in 1982 by a Kenyan band called Them Mushrooms, the Jambo Bwana song is now adopted all over East Africa and sung to tourists at every celebration. Each lodge have their own version incorporating local details (such as the name of the camp) and I am sure they make up some of it as they go along, especially as I distinctly hear Malisa's name being mentioned in the words. These are the lyrics ~ and translation ~ to the main part of the song.

Jambo, jambo bwana (Hello, hello boss)
Habari gani (How are you)
Nzuri Sana (Very good)
Wageni, wakaribishwa (Welcome visitors)
Ang'Ata Nyeti (Ang'Ata Nyeti ~ name of camp)
Hakuna Matata (No worries)
Okenda Serengeti (Going to Serengeti)
Hakuna matata (No worries)
Okenda Ngorongoro (Going to Ngorongoro)
Hakuna matata (No worries)
Okenda Tarangire (Going to Tarangire)
Hakuna matata (No worries)
]Jambo, jambo bwana (Hello, hello boss)
Habari gani (How are you)
Nzuri Sana (Very good)
Wageni, wakaribishwa (Welcome visitors)
Ang'Ata Nyeti (Ang'Ata Nyeti ~ name of camp)
Hakuna Matata (No worries)

After dinner we gather around the 'Bush TV' (the local expression for a camp fire), where we have a sing song, introduce the locals to the joys of toasting marshmallows, and attempt (very unsuccessfully – I blame the Duty Free rum and four bottles of wine) to photograph the awesome night sky. After a fabulous day in the crater, we have a phenomenal evening in an extraordinary setting.

When we get back to our tent we find the staff have been in for 'turn-back service' and there are a couple of much appreciated hot water bottles in our bed. At an altitude of 2310 metres, this area can get bitterly cold overnight. Still on a high from the earlier revelry (not to mention the copious amount of alcohol), I slip into a deep sleep, oblivious to the cold and any noises from the surrounding jungle.

Yet another marvellous day organised by Calabash Adventures, the best safari company by far!

Bleary-eyed, we drag ourselves out of bed when the alarm goes off at 04:10 this morning in order to get down to the beach for the sunrise and hopefully see some more turtles.

Unlike last night, this morning's excursion is only available to hotel guests, so thankfully there are nowhere near as many people as there were last night. Today's walk is further than yesterday, however, as the one remaining turtle is further down the beach; and it is still dark when we reach the nesting site. The turtle is just finishing off covering her eggs with sand when we get there.

The sunrise is a little disappointing (especially as this is the most easterly point on the Arabian peninsula I was expecting a little more), but the surreal rock formations along this stretch of the beach more than make up for it.

As soon as it is light, the turtle makes an awkward dash back to sea, having deposited her eggs on the same beach she was born on many years ago.

Back to the hotel for breakfast and then meet up with Said, our guide, for the today's journey. Having been up so early, we sleep most of the way, but wake up as Said takes a turning off the main road, into the mountains again.

Our hotel seen from the track leading up from the beach.

Said turns off the main road up this track

Wadi Bani Khalid

At the top of the hill, Said stops the car for the view over the bleak and desolate landscape. The scenery may be barren and harsh, but it has a stark and austere beauty to it that totally mesmerises me.

Said beckons for us to walk to the edge of the cliff (my fear of heights has kept me well back so far), and tells us to look at the crack in the plateau. Our eyes follow the canyon down and then we see it. Wow! There, nestled on the valley floor, is the most picture-perfect oasis: Wadi Bani Khalid.

After taking our photos from above, we drive back down to the oasis and walk from the car park along the felaj (ever-present irrigation channels) to reach the stunning pools of iridescent aquamarine water.

The water is unbelievably clear and glistens in various shades of blue and green under the bright sunlight. Apparently this place is extremely popular on weekends, and I can see why.

Said relaxes in one of the many pavilions that dot the area around the emerald-green pools.

The pools are fed year-round by a stream making its way down through the crack we saw in the Hajar Mountains. This is known as Oman's most beautiful wadi, and for good reason.

Lunch

In the town of the same name, we stop at a small restaurant for lunch. As my stomach is still very much playing up, I just order a plate of hummous and some bread, while David chooses a schwarma. Said, of course, has his usual mountain of rice.

And, no, this is not water from the oasis, but a refreshing minty drink.

Back in the car, I doze until we reach the small town of Bidir, where we lower the tyre pressure on the car for the journey into the desert (plus pick up a tow rope, 'just in case').

Wahiba Sands

Suddenly the tarmacked road ends, rather abruptly, and we continue on a reasonable track of compacted sand. “This used to be like a washboard” Said says, and explains that the camps come out occasionally with heavy machinery to create new 'roads' in the sand.

This vast expanse of perfectly formed rolling sand dunes stretches 200 miles from North to South and is named after the local Wahiba tribe who still spend their winters in the desert tending to their camels before migrating to the coast in the heat of summer.

Other than the tourists camps, there are no permanent settlements in this hauntingly empty swathe of sand, featuring towering dunes, reaching almost 100m in places, sculpted by the wind into delicately moulded crests and hollows.

Every now and again Said makes a detour off the main track, shimmying up the soft dunes and back down again.

1000 Nights Camp

Nestled comfortably on the valley floor, this is one of a handful of tourist camps in this area, surrounded by nothing but sand with high dunes either side.

Just outside the gates, an old truck is partially buried in the sand.

The car park is almost full as we arrive (being a Thursday, it's the eve of the weekend here, with most locals having Friday and Saturday off), with almost every car being a self-drive 4x4.

We are greeted with a refreshing wet towel in reception and after the usual formalities an electric golf buggy takes us and the cases to our room.

The rooms are fashioned on the traditional goat wool Bedouin tents but with a touch of modern comfort.

The camp is nicely spread out in amongst mature trees, with four levels of accommodation: basic Arabic tents with no bathroom facilities; the Sheikh tents that we are in with attached open-air bathroom; luxury glass-sided Ameer tents with A/C; and lastly, two-storey brick-built Sand Houses.

Also on site is a large restaurant, a snack-bar on board a wooden boat and a swimming pool.

Restaurant

Traditional seating area

The snack-bar

Swimming pool

With no A/C, the temperature is almost the same inside the tent as it is outside: 32 °C.

Sunset from the dunes

After a quick change, we leave the camp behind and head for a bit of fun on the dunes with Said. Seeing a group of lads just outside the gates, crowding around a wreck of a car that has obviously been 'rolled' doesn't exactly fill me with confidence. I check that my seatbelt is properly fastened before we tackle the off-roading.

As we race up the steep-sided dunes, large amounts of sand gets thrown about, and the car slides around like a ballerina on ice. Great fun!
Here, on top of the dunes, the wind is quite ferocious, sandblasting everything in sight (including us and the cameras). No wonder these dunes are constantly on the move, shifting inland at a rate of 10m per year.

There is a definite driving skill involved in scaling the soft dunes, and Said makes it effortlessly to the top every time, unlike these Germans in a self-drive car. The secret is to keep the speed high and the tyre pressure low.

After trying unsuccessfully to free their car, which is stuck half way up the dune, the tourists walk back to camp to recruit a local expert to help them out. The local guy gets the car out of the pickle without too much trouble, then shows off as he reaches the crest of the dune: taking off and landing awkwardly, dislocating the bumper of the car. Oops. Having finally reached the top, the Germans join us to watch the sunset, and we have a good laugh with them. The ridge is in fact full of tourists waiting to see the sun go down over the desert.

These people seem to have brought a picnic

Strangely enough, as soon as the sun goes down, the wind drops. We head back to camp, driving straight down the dune in front of us. Eeek!
What a fantastic way to finish another eventful and exciting day! Thank you Undiscovered Destinations for organising this fabulous Oman trip.

This is not a recent trip, rather it is taken from the journal I wrote on our adventures in Sudan in 2004.

Breakfast is a substantial affair, with egg, sausage, toast, fruit, yoghurt, muesli etc. I fill up as much as I can, as meals from now on are an unknown, as is every aspects of our day. Today we will set out on our very intrepid adventure: a ten day camel trek across remote parts of the Sahara.

We drive through Khartoum, stopping briefly at the Libyan Market to stock up on supplies.

Omran heading for the market

Michael in deep discussing with Omran. I always think Arabic, when spoken fast, sounds like people are shouting angrily at each other. It is a harsh sounding language, but absolutely fascinating to listen to.

As we head out of town we see a number of 'temporary' refugee villages for the displaced persons from Darfur. As this conflict has been in the news so much recently, it really hits home quite how bad the situation is here, with mud huts stretching as far as the eye can see.

We head for an open area on the outskirts of town where we meet our camels who will be our trusty steeds for the next ten days. Gulp. The air is thick with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, with Michael barking out uneasy orders in Arabic to the animal handlers and porters.

Omran, our local guide

Last night Michael was explaining how the loading of camels this morning will only take half an hour, but by the time two hours has passed with disorganised faffing about, I feel the need to sit down. It is just so hot, and no shade to be found. Sudan is experiencing a heatwave at the moment, with temperatures at least 10° hotter than normal for this time of year.

While we were all busy admiring the camels and worrying about what lies ahead, Michael has changed into his local outfit of a long flowing djellaba and headscarf.

It's time to try out camel riding, something that is new to almost all of us, and we have varying success.

Eventually it is my turn. I have been putting it off and putting it off, feeling a rising panic as I realise I cannot delay the inevitable any longer. I fall off before I have even got on, overbalancing as I lift one leg. (Apologies for very poor quality photos, these are screen grabs from a video)

I try again, this time with greater success, although I do feel very wobbly as the camel gets up from her knees.

The whole experience is rather unsteady and uncomfortable, and again I overbalance when the camel gets down, headbutting the poor animal in the process. Eeek. What have I let myself in for?

Apparently Omran has never been on a camel before either, something he failed to disclose to Michael when he was interviewed. Michael is not happy.

The saddles are home made and very rudimentary, and make me wonder just how comfortable they will be after a few days.

Suddenly it is all go and we're off. We walk for the first few hours, with the camels loping behind us. Our two camels, which we have named Fatima and Fluff, are much better behaved than some of the others, obediently following us at the end of a lead, much like a dog would, while a couple of people really struggle to get their animals to move at all. The camels carry a lot of heavy gear with all our personal stuff, tents, sleeping mats, mess tent, cooking implements and all our food for ten days. Water for drinking and cooking will be collected from wells along the route, while personal washing is not really including in the plan.

David and Fluff

The weather is blisteringly hot with no relief from shade nor any clouds, while the scenery is uninspiring with neither impressive sand dunes, not any kind of vegetation to break the monotony. Just sand. A few tufts of scorched grass dot the landscape and the odd dried-up acacia shrub. These plants seem to be rather small and insignificant here, unlike in Sub-Sahara further south where they grow into tall, majestic trees. It's a brutal environment and we see few living creatures as we wander further into the sand sea that is the Sahara.

Although it seems to me that I am constantly drinking water and refilling my 1.5 litre bottle, I am aware that the glaring sun and unforgiving climate is taking its toll on my body and mind. Despite the frequent fluid intake, I am beginning to feel progressively unwell.

For a while the surface under our feet is soft sand that makes for hard going as the weight of my body makes me sink in with the muscles in my ankles and calves taking to brunt of the work. Densely packed earth, baked, parched and cracked by the relentless sun gives way to gravel and stony ground seemingly sizzling with in merciless heat. This bleak and merciless environment demands respect, but I feel more and more ill as the morning wears on. Eventually Michael signals that it is time to stop for lunch. Close to tears and ready to give up, I struggle into the camp set up by the porters and collapse onto a chair. Thank goodness I packed a collapsible chair for this trip.

A mess tent is erected offering some relief from the ferocious sun. My thermometer reads 46 °C in the shade, and I feel like I am wilting, even in the shade. As my feet have been hurting for the last few miles, I carefully take my boots off, noticing both little toes are sporting blisters. Covering them with blister plasters, I put my boots on again and hope for the best.

Life around me is a bit of a blur, I hardly notice what I am eating and taking photos hasn't even enter my mind for several hour now. I must be ill!

After lunch I decide to have another go at riding. Fatima is carrying bags of firewood as well as being fitted with a large wooden saddle for me. Several of the men stand by in case I fall when mounting the camel, but all goes well. I don't feel at all wobbly and the saddle is surprisingly comfortable.

For the first couple of hours Fatima is plodding along quite happily, being led by Osman, while I am reasonably comfortable perched high above the ground.

Later we take a short break and Michael adjusts my saddle, moving it a little so that it is better for the camel. It may be better for Fatima, but shortly after we start off again, the wooden knob at the back starts digging into my bottom. After another couple of hours we stop again and as Fatima leans forward on the her knees and I lean backward to avoid headbutting her, the saddle totally disintegrates and I tumble, head first, onto the hard cracked earth. I don't have any pain, but feel somewhat dazed and confused. Michael is furious with the porters for not assembling the saddle properly in the first place (a basic structure, the saddle consists of pieces of specially shaped wood fastened together with rope).

I opt out of riding for the last few miles, preferring to trust my own two feet rather than the lofty animal with its rickety seat. The blisters on my feet are seriously bothering me and I feel increasingly weary, ill and in pain as the trek seems to go on and on and on this afternoon.

The expedition is not really going to plan as per Michael's briefing last night. He suggested that we would be all sorted out in camp and having snack before dinner, watching the sunset while the chef prepares our meal. Not so this evening. Sunset comes and goes while we are still walking.

Eventually we stop and again I collapse into my much-welcome chair. Not for long, however, as we end up having to put our own tent up (Michael had indicated that the porters would do that for us) while we wait for the camels to be unloaded and the mess tent erected. Not expecting any rain overnight, we leave the outer cover off the tent to allow for some ventilation.

Taking my boots off is a great relief, but my toes are now just a mass of blood and puss. I am not sure what to do for the best, so I just put a pair of sandals on and leave them to dry out overnight and see how they feel in the morning.

We end up having to help another couple of people with the erection of their tents, and once we are all sorted, we gather in the mess tent for drinks. Non-alcoholic, of course (Sudan is a dry country), and the promised snacks do not materialise either. Two people are asleep already and Michael sends someone to wake them so that he can have a little talk about how the day has gone (not really to plan and he is anything but impressed so far with the staff he has hired), what our plans are, and if anyone has any concerns. Despite feeling more and more apprehensive about the adventure, I say nothing.

We talk and talk and talk, sharing travel stories and generally get to know each other. Still no dinner. From time to time Michael goes to check up on how the chef is doing, and each time he comes back and reassures us: “soon...” After a while his word become rather hollow and I really just want to lie down and go to sleep. Eventually, at 22:10, over three hours later than planned, the food arrives: a sweet and sour soup with bread rolls, BBQ chicken with mooli and a vegetable salad in mayonnaise. Although the food is all very nice, it is way too late for me to eat, and I leave most of it, preferring to go to bed instead.

Not wanting to be cooped up inside the stuffy tent (I suffer from mild claustrophobia), I take my mattress and thermarest outside and lay down under the stars with my fleece sleeping bag liner covering me. Sleeping outside in such a place as this, far, far away from any light pollution, is one of the great joys of life; the stars are simply awesome and I go to sleep feeling quite contented.