Monday 25 / November / 2024
The convoy had wheeled off the main road in the small town of Al Kamil Wal Wafi, plunging into the dark desert night around 9pm. We were in pursuit in our Nissan Patrol, trying to catch up with the fading tail lamps of the convoy as they disappeared into the wilderness.
Close to 100 4WDs and over 50 men on duty, including marshalls and crew volunteers, would man our route, tracing the edge of the Sharqiyah Sands before veering off to drive straight up towering dunes and their deceivingly soft sands.
Though it was just me and my passenger, the back of our car was full with gear for three days of driving and two nights of camping: jerry cans, a coolbox filled with ice and drinks, tents, mats, sleeping bags, water containers, our bags and cameras.
The gear rattled as the terrain got bumpy, and without streetlights, I couldn’t see anything except the tail lights of the SUVs ahead of me reflecting off of the dust they kicked up. After sometime I could see the moon rising through my left window. It was the only ‘landmark’ I could manage to find to satisfy my navigational consciousness.
We caught up with the group when the vehicles stopped for a while to shift the transmissions into 4H. We felt the traction of the deflated tyres doing its round in the sand and the rollercoaster ride continued till 10.30pm when we stopped to set up our tents under the stars.
Campers began to sing and make music and latecomers kept arriving throughout the chilly night. The camp never really settled down, with some enjoying the crisp night air until it transformed into morning dew.
The next day we exited our tents and were welcomed with the sight of desert expanses.
It was so magical; I’d never seen sand so orange, or so much sand. The scenery in the desert is spectacular, especially at daybreak and dusk when the colour of the desert changes. It’s a terrain with wide, flat, open desert leading into high dunes.
It’s the first place that you should go if you want to find out how much you actually like four-wheel driving, because out here, sand driving for beginners is a baptism of fire.
Sand is the one place where if you get it wrong, you can get it badly wrong. Your car can float away with the tide (not kidding, mine did). You can roll your vehicle sideways on a dune or you can get stuck in quicksand. So why do you do it? Because it’s fun, it takes you to awesome places, and there’s nothing quite like the feeling of cruising up the ridiculously narrow ridge of a towering dune in your car at an alarming 45 degree angle — windows down, sand in your hair.
As we continued our trek, the dunes grew. Almost half a kilometre high, a kilometre wide, the imposing sand dunes are thrillingly unpredictable. I’d never driven on sand so steep, and it was a bit terrifying when the vehicle started slipping down sideways, forcing me to manoeuvre using a combination of quick steering and rapid acceleration. Several times we had to reverse down a slope and fire the engine to get enough momentum to defy the gravity. Once you brush past the strong sandy currents, the feeling is euphoric, one that will stay with you forever.
Going up a dune in a hairpin track, I slowed the engine half way in doubt and was stuck again. Nobody nearby. Suddenly a Ford Raptor appeared over the cliff. Mohsin, a crew member, came to us smiling. He taught me how to gently feel the sand and get out of it.
I couldn’t but admire his patience. “Hey, car number 584 is stuck so badly. Winch them out...” the crackly voice through his walkie-talkie doesn’t cause panic but triggers a flutter of laughter among Mohsin and his friend Osama who also came to my rescue in an FJ Cruiser. “There he is, stuck again... somebody get behind his wheels...” And more laughter.
I attempted the dune again as Mohsin and Osama screamed, “Push....”
Without momentum, you’ll rarely get up to the top. Once you reach the peak, though, you’ll need to slow down or stop, the lesson I learned. Often, there will be a significant blind spot for a few seconds as you stare skywards. However, pausing at the top of the dune is important for another reason as well, because on the other side of the dune, there may be a massive drop-off.
Many a novice has gleefully powered to the top of a dune only to sail straight ahead into thin air. At best, this will result in some airtime, at worst, a broken bumper or damaged suspension or an over roll.
After a few tries, we made it. The view from the top was sensational. This was a place where problems energise people and goad them into action. Nothing is kept for tomorrow. Fix it now to move on. And while everyone keeps moving, they never leave anyone behind.
That night in the camp, the place was buzzing with drivers comparing cars and chatting about the challenges they faced and the ones that lie ahead.
As we spoke to the other drivers, we found a common story. Most come back to these sands over and over again to learn more about their chances of survival in a land that at the first glance inspires awe and fear. They came to confront problems they could fix.
They came looking for something that could transform their mere mundane existence into worthy lives. For most, the desert is a place where one can purge their cowardice, weaknesses, egos, impertinence...to come out fresher and stronger as quick decision makers.
On our last day of exhilarating driving, the team leader, Mohamed Issa Al Zadjali, created a challenging track for a final showdown with the dunes. We creeped along and couldn’t see beyond the next mountain of sand, so we simply followed the tracks of the car in front. Suddenly, the turquoise of the Arabian Sea came into view.
We exited the desert at Al Khuwaymah where we stopped for lunch on the beach. Looking around at my fellow sand-covered drivers, I felt a kind of kinship with them. After venturing into the desert, pushing hard on our 4WDs through the soft sands and towering dunes, getting stuck, pulling out, getting stuck again — and facing every challenge with a laugh and smile, we had all become better human beings, with a lot more patient and a helpful hand.
