Riding Sacinia

Both Bob and I were under the weather on Saturday… Bob has a chest cold and bad cough – I’m still dealing with Tarceva side effects. To get my mind off my ailments, I continued to go through my box of travel journals, reading choice bits aloud to Bob, like the saga of “Safari Chicken.” Fortunately he doesn’t mind that most of those old journeys were with my ex-husband. The journal I was reading was a trip to India that took place in October 1987. We started out in a houseboat on Dal Lake in Kashmir, and ended up riding camels for four days in the Thar Desert of northwestern India. The Thar Desert lies mostly in the Indian state of Rajasthan, and then extends into Pakistan. We arrived by way of a steam-driven locomotive... a 10-hour overnight train ride from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer, a remote medieval walled city that sits on one of the ancient silk roads in the heart of the desert. Here are a few entries from that India Travel Journal.

From the Journal...

The best part of our first day on the camel safari is right now… reclining on a Rajasthani blanket with a tray of hot tea, four men sitting around a campfire cooking dinner for us, and a desert sky filled with stars. When we say we are sore, one of the men says he is a masseur and proceeds to massage and rub out all those tired, aching muscles that have resulted from a day of camel riding. I could enjoy this life if I could ever get into synch with my trotting camel. All I seem to be able to do is go up when he comes down and come down when he goes up!

Our adventure began at 7:30 this morning when we met the group of men who would see to our needs in the Thar Desert for four days. There are only the two of us, but for 350 Rupees per day per person ($7.00 U.S.), we are provided with two camels and two camel drivers for ourselves, a camel and camel cart for food, cooking utensils, camel feed and lots of beverages. Also two men to drive the camel cart and set up camp prior to our arrival. My camel driver is a handsome young man of twenty, named Matar. He is Muslim and wears the loose white pants and tunic typical of desert Muslims. On his head he wears a billed baseball cap that says, “In Alaska you don’t tan – you rust.” He has gotten it from another tourist. My camel’s name is Sacinia and he stands eight to nine feet high… he is huge, but a little on the lame side… he rarely trots far before slowing down, sometimes almost coming to a standstill.

Important question - How do you get on a camel? With the camel sitting on the ground, I straddle the saddle and put my feet into the stirrups. Then Matar gets on (in front of me), takes the reins and commands the camel to rise. First Sacinia raises himself by his hind legs, sending us lurching forward – then his front legs stand up, and there we are, high above the ground with me wondering what I have gotten myself into. But I hang on to the saddle horn, and try to relax. It is a long and hot day visiting 16th Century Bada Bagh, a Jain Temple, and watching a flock of peacocks and several antelopes race across the desert landscape. Our first night halt is near a Rajput village called Kherderon Kidhani. It is a poor village of goat herders, using only kerosene and candles for lighting. They eat early and go to bed early to conserve on these precious items. The village is already dark by the time we arrive at camp.

This is Diwali, a major Hindu holiday. It is also called the “Festival of Lights,” with oil lamps, candles, and colorful strings of lights traditionally brightening the night… and fireworks. Jay purchased some fireworks in Jaisalmer and now gives them to the men. They are as excited as children, lighting firecrackers, throwing them down and jumping back… and they love the sparklers. The oldest man has a rocket and keeps trying to light it with a burning ember from the campfire, but it won’t light. Jay finally takes a look and discovers the man is trying to light the wrong end!

Matar prepares our bed on the sand away from the others. A pad, clean sheets and pillows, and a warm comforter in case the desert night grows cold. They all wish us good night and then return to their campfire to drink and visit. They have homemade whiskey that they made from millet distilled in copper pots. I tried some and it was not bad… very mild for whiskey. Jay and I crawl into bed, lying on our backs and filling our eyes with more stars than I have seen in a lifetime. It is a moonless night and we can clearly see the Milky Way, planets and occasionally a shooting star. I drift off to sleep with the sound of men’s voices and their laughter around the campfire. Tomorrow is another day. I hope my camel and I can work out some harmony.

To be continued…