Wadi Rum, Jordan 2018

They say you can't go back again. Because it's never quite the same. Sometimes you can, and it works. Wadi Rum desert in the south of Jordan has been a beacon to me since first visiting in 2007 and then having the perfect camel ride in 2008.

The expanded visitor centre was to be expected because of the intervening years, but it's almost featureless, and deserted. It's still early morning despite the hour's drive from Aqaba; by the time the sun becomes ferocious at noon, we will be on our return to town. Our timing permits only a hasty once-over in a shop barely opening up; no chance to see if the interpretive display has also been enhanced. Our group is hurried to several old pickup trucks for the ride to a desert rendezvous, perching two on a side in the back with some sunshade. The transport always varies for these desert incursions.

The experienced locals had estimated in advance how many camels would be required. This time three companions decide to join me. Would-be women warriors ☺

They are friendly (indicating well-treated) animals. Who doesn't love a hug as we mill around to mount? The Scot is a magnet.

Taking the lead camel was almost as good as being alone. My problematic hip joint allows some latitude for hooking my knee ‒ so much more comfortable ‒ but not perfect form. No racing today! As we amble along, the handler lets the camels nibble at some low-growing crunchy savoury grass smelling like thyme. Why is the desert strangely colourless this morning?

Riding high ... Ah. There is no feeling to equal this, merged into a timeless, magnificent planet. We drift along the sand, skirting the majestic cliffs. Carvings and petroglyphs on the rock walls are a common sight. Wadi Rum is a Protected Area and a UNESCO-designated natural and cultural landscape.

Always over too soon, our journey catches up with the non-riders who are shopping for crafts in a large tent. Familiarity. There's the boulder remembering Lawrence. Over one hundred years since the Arab Revolution against the Ottoman Empire, "Aw-renz" is imprinted on the collective memory here; this is only one of the modest commemoratives to him throughout the desert of the Arab Revolt.

After visiting the base of enormous dunes that beg most people to climb, away we rattle in the trucks for a refreshment stop at one of the desert camps. The temperature has risen slyly and fast. The large size of Captain's Desert Camp seems surprisingly anomalous to me. Tourism on a managed scale creates income for many Bedouin families. Here is welcome shade, musicians happily entertain as we sip mint tea, eat dates and small cookies.

The sun is then high above us as we finally turn toward the highway. But we're not leaving the desert before we have a look at the Hejaz Railway train. The railway was built by the Ottomans in the first decade of the twentieth century railway for transport to Aqaba and access to the Red Sea; this restored steam engine now shows its stuff only on special occasions. Ghosts of the filming of "Lawrence of Arabia" hover here.

Who can say if that was to be my last camel ride? Thank you, Wadi Rum, and thank you, Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, for your hospitality. Please stay as fabulous as you are.

© 2019 Brenda Dougall Merriman