We arrived at the riad in Merzouga late afternoon, deposited our stuff in a guest room and made our way to the waiting camels. Our camel guide Mohammed, dressed in his colorful garb, motioned for us to mount our beasts. No orientation, no instructions, just swing your leg across and hop aboard. Oh, and hang on to the handle bars. Camels stand up in jerky stages, so you lurch way back and way forth till he's up. Then off you go.

The wooden saddles are wrapped in blankets, but it's still a hard seat and a wide straddle, with no stirrups for your dangling legs. Burger decided to ride Lawrence of Arabia-style, and wrapped his legs around the handle bar. Our guide encouraged me to try the same but my legs weren't long enough.

We rode across the golden sand for two hours behind another group of four. I had read that long pants and jogging shoes would be a good idea, as well as a shesh (long scarf) for a turban against sun and blowing sand, but the young Spanish riders ahead of us were barefoot, wore shorts and no headgear.

We arrived at camp, a circle of rectangular tents (bivouacs) at the foot of a high dune, shortly before sunset. The camels lurched down and we dismounted. All the camels except Burger's then sat contentedly with their heads up. Only Burger's stretched his neck down along the sand and closed his eyes, seemingly exhausted. We all had a good laugh. Did the "Lawrence style" give him a neck ache?

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