In the saddle with Rambo

I had visions of turning up on our camel safari and finding one was called Alice. But thankfully they don’t seem to have that children’s song in India…

I was, in fact, riding Rambo, who unlike his namesake was a very affectionate six year old with a green stud through his nose.

After launching myself onto his back and him in turn launching into the air in an alarming forward, back, then whoosh, you’re 10 foot off the ground kind of way, we set off on our desert adventure.

While some of the other camels bared their teeth, kicked flies away or made mad gurgling sounds Rambo was content with giving each of his friends a bit of a nuzzle and a kiss, and when we stopped for lunch I was showing off about how well behaved he was. But that was the morning…

As we set off for our afternoon session, Rambo was first to make his getaway. Unfortunately in the wrong direction. ‘Left, left’ shouted the guides. ‘Pull his rein, kick him’ Rob called, ‘pull harder’.

But Rambo wasn’t having any of it. He was going AWOL and there was nothing I could do to stop him, other than call out to the rest of the group, ‘can someone please come and rescue me?’, which of course they did.

Other than a few new bruises and a bit of a sore bum, it was a great day in the desert, of crossing perfect yellow dunes, eating delicious curries, drinking fresh ginger chai, and amazingly enough, ice cold beers, topped off by sleeping under the stars on a cloudless night.

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