Here’s my videos, photos and diary from my fulfilment of my new year’s resolution… Camping! Also took the beast on the sand for the first time and made a Top Gear style video to go with it. All this stuff and more can be found on my blog HERE…

And here’s me post-camping diary entry (find pre-camping entry HERE).

Friday 8 January 2010

Home. Showered. Clean. Bowels finally evacuated. Car in one piece. Survived.

Apologies for the lack of ‘real time’ updates from camping. I felt rude getting my Mac out whilst everyone else was doing campy-type things, like building fires and marinating meat.

Let’s rewind.

Yesterday morning I packed as much as I thought I needed and more for this one-night camping trip. Tent, camp bed, head torch, two lamps, two sleeping bags, warm clothing, a cooler box full of drinks, snacks, meat, two barbecues, tow ropes, small table, two chairs, knives, forks, plates, cups, camera equipment, laptop, loo roll… I even bought a 12v car kettle!

I met my friends at the Dragon Mart petrol station on the Hatta Road. Steve was driving his Land Rover, Caroline and Tara were in the Nissan Pathfinder and Chris was in his Tomb Raider Jeep Wrangler, roof off, head presumably layered in factor 40. We all filled-up and we were on our way.

We followed the Hatta Road practically all the way to Hatta itself, stopping-off for firewood along the way. I can’t tell you how nervous and excited I was to get the Hummer on to the sand and see if it actually performed or sank up to it’s axles. The car certainly has a lot of ground clearance and is fully-equipped with all manner of buttons that apparently make it drive on anything. That doesn’t mean I could drive it on anything.

Shortly after the route E55 turnoff to Al Madam, we left the main road and took a right turn onto a gravel track. We traced a route along a security fence on our right, which is apparently a border to a small enclave of Oman. After a while the surface changed from gravel to soft, deep orange sand. We deflated our tyres using automatic tyre-deflator gadgets provided by the boys (which I will obviously be buying as soon as I get a chance) and continued our journey, with me following the girls and bringing up the rear.

I have to say one of the highlights of the last twenty-four hours was watching Caroline hit sand banks flat-out, sending the Nissan and it’s contents hurtling skywards. Not only were they a great indicator as to when I should slow down but it was also a great gauge as to how much injury the human neck can withstand before hospitalisation is required.

At the front of our convoy, one of the guys took a wrong turn, so instead of us driving along the foot of beautiful sand dunes, we were forced through what looked like dried river beds full of rocks and the occasional hazardous drop. As my teeth rattled around my head I couldn’t help but wonder if there was going to be anything left of my car by the end of the trip.

Twenty minutes of bouncing around later and we reached a point where the dunes meet the Hatta mountains. The guys barrelled-up a steep dune and disappeared over the top. Before going up there, they’d wound down their windows to explain that I probably could make it over and down the other side without dying. Had they not said anything and just kept driving, I would’ve done it without thinking. However, since they planted the seed of doubt in my mind, I chose the safe option of driving around to our camping spot.

The place we chose to camp, where my friends have camped many times, is tucked into the horseshoe bend of rock which, once we’d parked our cars and set everything up, seemed custom built for our needs. To the South East was a 1000ft plateau which curved left around a large, rocky hill and was surrounded on all other sides by huge, steep sand dunes. So, even though we were sat at the end of a rather large valley, this gave our spot a feeling of serene seclusion, which is exactly what I was after. Here’s a photo. If you squint, you can see out tents (little white dots) right in the middle.

Everyone unpacked and set-about erecting tents, blowing-up inflatable mattresses and positioning those horrible, yet remarkably handy folding chairs around the stone fire circle.

After being stung when buying a two-man tent that could barely fit my legs inside, I’d opted for a four-man tent, which I’d yet to see erect. I set about putting it up and I have to say, not only was it quite good fun, it was also pretty easy. Caroline came across at one point to help me bend my large, flexible pole into the required slot. I was happy for the assistance but now I have no idea if I can do it alone. I wonder if the four-man part of the product description is actually the number of people it’d be handy to have around when putting it up. It certainly isn’t the number of people you can fit inside. The only way four men would fit in there would be stacked-on top of each other. That’s a different kind of camp altogether.

Once I was set up and my folding camp bed was in place, I went for a drive on the dunes. At first I was extremely tentative and cautious. I needed to get the feel of the Hummer on sand and, contrary to the many tales of woe I’ve heard, it is absolutely fantastic! Within minutes I was tackling steep terrain, dropping down frightening slopes, bouncing over humps and having the kind of fun a stupid man my age should have.

Back at camp, drinks were cracked open, barbecues were lit and we all sat around the fire as dusk enveloped us. Then Chris chimed-in with “It’s six o’clock now. Shall we eat at 7.30?”

I was gobsmacked. It seemed like it was at least nine o’clock. Time in the dessert passes like dog years. It’s very mysterious. Over the next couple of hours whenever anyone asked the time it was always, without fail, earlier than we all thought. It felt like it was going to be the longest night of my life.

Of course I was wrong. Before long the liquid refreshments were in full flow, meat was being burnt, conversations got animated and a lot of fun was had. For star-gazing, we couldn’t have picked a better night. Each time our fire died down to a reasonable level (i.e. whenever Fire-Nazis stopped throwing full trees on it), the black night sky came alive with a million twinkling lights. Between us we saw seven or eight shooting stars, which is never not exciting.

The weather was milder than any of us expected, although you didn’t have to move to far from the fire before you could feel the chill. I had packed long trousers but never wore them, happy enough to maintain a distance from the flames with my bare legs that kept them from the chill but also didn’t set the hairs on fire.

Barbecued food never tastes bad. That said, I am a man of simple tastes, especially when I can’t see how well it’s cooked. So, while my co-campers knocked up mixed vegetables and steaks, I stuck to lamb burgers and bread buns. As usual, I got a bit of ridicule for this. In fact, after waiting for an hour to throw my burgers on his barbecue, Chris informed me that I couldn’t because they were burgers. This meant fishing around for a disposable barbecue and waiting for that bloody thing to warm up before I could start grilling. Some people!

And that was about the size of the evening. Eating, (too much) drinking, star-gazing and rambling, rowdy conversation. From thinking the night was going to drag-on and worrying about how to make my excuses and sneak off to the tent, I eventually crawled into my vinyl boudoir at 1am. Sensible-me knew I should get into something comfortable, prepare my sleeping area, and close the tent flap securely. Unfortunately sensible-me left the party very early.

A fitful night’s sleep. At times very cold and at times a little uncomfortable. At other times the tent was, ahem, spinning a little. I woke up far too many times but, as is usually the case, just as I was thinking I was never going to get back to sleep, I blinked and it was morning.

And what a beautiful morning.

The sun was just beginning to rise above the Hatta mountains, it’s morning glow crawling down the massive sand dune I could see through my (unsecured) tent flap, lighting it a fiery red. Around me I could hear birds, the occasional owl, tents unzipping and farts being farted.

I stumbled out like a 100kg, stubbled baby, being born into a world where tea and bacon sandwiches are the only way to survive. Within minutes our groggy rabble had converged around the fire once more and breakfast was served. I made bacon sandwiches for everyone, using nothing but bacon, a disposable barbecue and the pliers from a Leatherman. There is photographic evidence of this.

My star purchase, the car kettle, was a wonder to behold. I’d say it took an hour to boil, give or take ten minutes, by which point we’d all had a cup of tea and we’re starting to pack-up. Note to self – Set kettle boiling as soon as you wake up or possibly the night before.

Packing was never going to be too much fun, especially with a head full of rotting candy floss and mashed potatoes. I persevered, though. Before long coolers were drained, litter was properly packed away and it was on to the jobs that looked the least fun.

Have you ever wondered into the camping section of any shop accidentally or on purpose and thought to yourself “How do they get those tents into those small bags?”

Well, I don’t think they do. I think it’s some sort of optical illusion. Sure, I got the poles dismantled easily enough but rolling-up the tent itself was another matter entirely. Even though the air was dry and no moisture was to be found anywhere, the underside of my tent was covered in wet sand, which proved a bugger to brush off whilst trying to maintain a tight, compact rolling method.

In the end it took me two goes. The first time I foolishly didn’t consider the dimensions of the bag I had to get the tent into. I wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Similarly, the camp bed took an ingenious bit of folding and manipulating to get away. Steve came and did this, which once again left me wondering if I could manage it alone.

Cars packed, there was a brief moment where none of us seemed to know what to do with ourselves. It seemed to be quite a swift departure. Looking back, maybe we should’ve made a bit more of the morning.

We set off, me at the back once more, for civilisation. I think we were all gunning-it with a little more reckless abandon than we should’ve been. It’s just one of those morning-after things people do. Since I was at the back, I had a front row seat to the amusing shenanigans of the cars in front as we tooled through desert, rocks and dried mud. For the most part there was a lot of side-to-side skidding and huge dust clouds but every now and then someone would hit something, or drop off somewhere, or suddenly tilt sideways. Being at the back also meant I got the heads-up and managed to avoid scaring myself senseless as the car disappeared beneath me.

Others weren’t so lucky.

I never saw much of Steve. Not only was he way out in front, there were also three huge dust clouds from his and the other two cars in-between us. Occasionally Chris’s Jeep Wrangler seems to magically transform him into a 17yr old lad in a souped-up Vauxhall Nova, so he looked to be having a few near misses along the way. However, it was Caroline and Tara (with, I think, Tara behind the wheel) that seemed to cop the worst of it. They were just unfortunate with their timings once or twice. They dropped down one chasm/ravine/canyon (Okay… “bank”!) at quite a pace and minutes later, when we stopped to re-inflate our tyres, still seemed a little shocked.

When it comes to annoying, post-fun comedowns, re-inflating tyres is right up there with tidying up Christmas wrapping paper. It takes a lifetime to do each tyre, which cars apparently have four of. Plus we had four cars, which meant a lot of sitting around and waiting, whilst flies used our skin as an airport. I was even photobombed…

Since I had no compressor (is that what they’re called?) I was pretty much back of the queue, which wasn’t a problem. Eventually I got my tyres done, thanks to Steve’s AIR MAX – Something else I’m going to have to buy. The others still had a bit of air to pump, so I said my goodbyes and trundled-off, driving along with all my windows down, in the hope it might expel one or two of the thirty flies who were cadging a lift.

Shortly before I hit the main road, Caroline called. It seems the big bumps had totalled their car. Various fluids were pouring from the front (of the car, not Caroline). Apparently Chris ended-up towing them back to the main road where they got a tow truck to take them home. A bit of a downer to end what was otherwise a great, little trip.

Back on the main road, I was immediately confronted with a police checkpoint. I have no idea why they were stopping people or what they were checking. All I know is I got very nervous. I believe that’s called ‘working-class guilt’. Other examples are always assuming shop staff think you’re a shoplifter or that waiters in fancy restaurants think you’re scum. I needn’t have worried. The bored-looking cop just waved me along.

I got back to the villa feeling like a battle-scarred soldier returning from war. What a loser! All I’d done was sleep out for the night in a tent. I still haven’t unpacked the car, apart from the essentials (leftover snacks and wallet). The shower I just had was probably one of the best in my life. I no longer smell of burnt embers and my hair, whilst still sticking out in all directions, is clean, conditioned, rather than feeling thick from the sand.

So, what did I get out of this first camping experience. Well, most importantly, I know I can trust the Hummer to get me from A to B, regardless of the terrain. Probably just as important is being organised. Had I been on my own, I had no tea, no coffee and no milk, even if I id have a pathetic car kettle to boil water in.

Lesson number three is you can never have enough wood. Once you’ve stopped giggling about knob jokes, this is a vital one. Those six piles of wood that we bought at the garage on the way out lasted all of an hour, then we were scavenging… And when I say ‘we’, I mean someone else who wasn’t as lazy as me.

Other than that, camping was a great experience and has now given me the confidence to head out on my own. We’re lucky enough to live in a place with more than its fair share of natural beauty, hidden gems, accessible beaches and plenty of adventure.

Roll on next weekend.