Rajasthan Camel Safari
Everybody does it here - it has become somewhat of a touristic cliche. It can range from a luxury tented eco-experience to an off-the-beaten-track adventure. You might find yourself in a sea of tourists waiting to pose for a portrait on a dune, or perhaps like us, you'll end up sitting out a sandstorm in a herder's desert wigwam. It is the Rajasthani camel safari, and it is whatever you make it.
Eager to make ours an adventure, we did our homework first. There are endless options in Rajasthan, but we wanted to get out into the desert, away from the hordes. Wildlife and scenery, rather than comfort, were our priorities, and we were hoping to get a glimpse of the unstaged version of traditional Rajasthani desert culture as well. After reading up on the options and talking to other travelers, we decided on Khuri, a small desert village about 40 kilometers southwest of Jaisalmer. To ensure we could get away from the tourist grind, we went off-season and opted for a three-day safari rather than the typical overnight trip.
 On camel trips in many countries, the camels are roped together into a line and tourists are pulled through the desert; other trips may have a guide on foot leading your camel along. While such tours have their place, they leave me feeling like I am on a ride at Disneyland. In Rajasthan, some desert safari operators offer visitors the unique opportunity to really learn to ride a camel. These trips are for desert dreamers, for those who want to gallop through the scrub like some modern-day Laurence of Arabia. Leaving early to beat the heat, our guides quickly led us out of the village, handed us the reigns, gave us two minutes of camel riding instructions, and off we went!
 As we rode away from Khuri, we rocked and swayed our way past a line of women dressed in colorful saris walking back from the village well balancing huge silver pots of water on their heads. Unexpectedly, the dry thorny trees around us were filled with peacocks and peahens wailing in the wind. Chinkara gazelles grazed on what looked like empty stretches of hard-packed sand. In the distance, a ridge of sand dunes rose up before us like a natural wall between the village and the open desert beyond.
It took a few minutes to get used to controlling the camels - they're big animals - but by the time we reached the dunes, we felt like old pros. Following our guides and enjoying the views of the desert around us, we made our way up and over the dunes to a tiny village of traditional adobe compounds beautifully painted with abstract desert designs. Unfortunately, this little village was a little too picturesque for its own good.
 Only an hour by camel from Khuri, it seems this one settlement was THE desert village for tourists who do short afternoon safaris. Hordes of dusty desert children demanded to have their pictures taken and ordered us to enter their beautiful houses to take pictures. Clearly the little monsters were used to tour groups with pockets full of candy and treats as tribute to the little bandits. Fearing the resulting shakedown, we declined, preferring to simply stroll around and take in the beauty of the village. But when we did not want to take their pictures, the little brats picked up several rocks and switched into mafia mode. This is the negative side of tourism, which we have seen in many pockets around the world. Strangely though, this terrible behavior was limited to the first settlement; we would quickly discover that only a few miles away travelers were a very welcomed, rare novelty.
 After a quick departure from the village, we rode for another hour or two until the heat became too unbearable. We found a shady space under a tangled tree high up on a dune-covered ridge with magnificent views of the surrounding desert. While we hid from the heat, our guides spent TWO hours making curried vegetables and home-made chapatis over an open fire. We all stuffed ourselved and slept the afternoon away until around 4 PM, when it was cool enough to continue riding.
As we left the ridge, Thomas pointed out clouds forming on the horizon and asked our guide if he thought a storm was coming. The guide ensured us there would be no storm. Clearly, you should not expect an honest response from a person whose income depends on the answer.
 We slowly worked our way along a series of ridges across expanses of scrub through dunes and the occasional grassy patch filled with gazelles. Strangely, colorful blooming flowers hung from the bone-dry bushes and trees, like ornaments left by nomads to beautify the monotone browns of the desert. At one point, we rode across a flat plain of hard-packed sand covered with large lizards. Their grey-black skin reflected a metallic rainbow sheen. They posed and threatened us by pumping their bodies up and down like they were doing push-ups, and when that failed to scare us away, they scattered back into their holes. Not surprisingly, there was a large number of birds of prey in the surrounding trees. So much life in such a hostile terrain.
As the day came to a close, the clouds darkened and the winds started to pick up. Our guide chose a campsite at the top of a large dune, which he thought would catch the evening breeze. That was an understatement to say the least. Just as we climbed off our camels, a strong wind started to build and it began to rain. Great bolts of lightning struck the surrounding ridges, and in the distance, we could see clouds of sand heading straight towards us.
 We all jumped on to our camels and rode down the ridge into a valley where we spotted a herder's camp. Nobody was at the camp when we got there, but we unloaded the camels and crawled into what could best be described as a wigwam just as the sandstorm hit. Crowded into the small shelter with a flock of goats which had no intention of staying out in such conditions, our guides immediately started preparing dinner as if they owned the place, going so far as to milk the herder's goats to make chai. We sat in the blackness with flickers of light coming from the fire waiting awkwardly wondering how the owner of the wigwam would react when he returned to discover four people crammed into his dwelling. We did not have to wait long for an answer.
Just as we were starting to eat, he crawled in through the low door. A little surprised at first, he obviously knew our guides and seemed comfortable with our presence, although he was quite shy with us because he did not speak a word of English. (I don't even know if he spoke Hindi.) We all feasted on curried vegetables until the rain stopped and the winds died down. Our guides felt that it would be best to camp near the wigwam just in case the weather might change once again. Because the herder's animals were roaming around everywhere grazing on sand, our guides rigged a very awkward bed on the herder's camel cart, which was far too short for us, but we were in no position to complain. As the night progressed, the clouds cleared and the the sand in the air settled revealing a spectacular, starry sky above us. To a chorus of bleating goats, we spent the night in the fetal position on a camel cart in a valley among the dunes in the Thar desert, a rather unique experience. |
