Into The Empty Quarter

"No man can live this life and emerge unchanged. He will carry, however faint, the imprint of the desert, the brand which marks the nomad; and he will have within him the yearning to return, weak or insistent according to his nature. For this cruel land can cast a spell which no temperate clime can match."

WILFRED THESIGER - Arabian Sands

Wilfred Thesiger and Musallim bin Al Kamam on a rooftop terrace in Dubai, after returning from Oman, 1949.
Source: Companion biographies | Musallim bin Al Kamam

Moreeb Dune, Liwa, Al Gharbia, UAE

22°59'4.61"N, 53°46'39.72"E

Our first planned trip together: camping in the northern tip of the Empty Quarter. Not a bad way to start. Forgetting the wise words of Thesiger, the great British explorer and traverser of the Empty Quarter, that the desert can give you "a life unhampered by possessions, since everything that [is] not a necessity [is] an encumbrance", we piled the car full of kit (mainly food and beer - surely necessities?), pointed our nose south and headed for bigger sands.  

Our destination was on the outskirts of the Liwa Oasis, a cluster of Bedouin villages in the Western region of Abu Dhabi, close to the Saudi Arabian border. The four hour drive was on one straight-line road, bar a roundabout or two, which, in true UAE style, were so big you probably wouldn't realise you were on them. However, the tedium of the linear drive was relieved by the idiotic antics of testosterone-fuelled drivers with too much power under their sandalled feet. They definitely kept K on her toes and car tensions high. 

Mezaira'a was the last stop to fill up on fuel (criminally cheap in T's opinion) before the sat-nav display route was lost within a field of mole-hill dunes.

Where's the road gone?

Driving until there was literally no road left to drive on, we were finally faced with Tel Moreeb: 'Scary Mountain'. Allegedly the tallest dune in the UAE, the natural phenomenon is a source of attraction for adrenaline-seeking junkies. Unfortunately, under strict instructions from K's mum who kindly lent us the car, we were unable to put the Q5 to the test. Luckily our legs were working well enough, so once we found a place to set up the little yellow tent, our next mission was to find the perfect sundowner vista.

The desert has to be one of the biggest real-life optical illusions. All sense of perspective is lost and what looks to be a short stroll to reach the highest peak turns in to a Lawrence of Arabia trek where each summit conquered is to be faced with yet another. T, equipped with headtorch, and more importantly bearer of beer, ploughed on through the blowing sands while K, the happy-snappy photographer, attempted to capture every sweaty, sandy step. 

After many anticlimatic attempts to find the highest sundowner sight, we eventually gave up and settled for a semi-protected sand-bowl, as the winds were picking up. The idea of ice-cold beers could not have been more welcome. There was only one problem.... we had nothing to open them with. T's trusty and beloved pen-knife, normally taken everywhere with him, was left lying soundly back at camp. Parched and hell-bent on opening the beers we had so loving lugged across the dunes, K's survival instincts kicked in. If only she'd paid more attention to her father's bushman technique of opening one beer bottle with another. Thankfully there is a lot to be said for tenacity. Suffice to say a beer was opened and a freshly manicured nail was sacrificed - but all for a good cause. We should say beer has never tasted so sweet, but in truth it was sandy and warm - much like the view. However, we weren't going to admit that - at least not to each other. We had made a plan to watch the sunset and so that's what we were going to do... come hell or sand storm. With dogged determination we sat huddled together, taking turns to chew on the one opened sandy beer and praying for the earth to speed up it's rotation so the sun would set quicker.

Smiling through sand-gritted teeth

Having squinted through sand-blasted corneas at the sun disappearing behind the dunes, we felt we had successfully ticked off 'sundowners in the desert' and could return to camp contented in this fact.
With the sun put to bed, it was our turn call it a day. Heading back to camp, we expected - and were embarrassingly over-prepared for with jumpers, scarves and socks - the steamy temperature to take a drastic drop. Unsually this did not happen and the balmy day gave way to an equally balmy night.

After a supper of sand-seasoned boerewors and the obligatory campfire-toasted marshmallows, we made our bed under the star-strewn sky. Even T, famed for claiming that he is never tired, was actually excited to go to bed for once. Being able to see the stars so unspoilt as they are, is an incredible experience. Staring at one star your attention is quickly drawn to hundreds of others seemingly twinkling even brighter. We were forced to shelve the shooting star count as we hit the teens.

We managed to make it half way through the night before the full-body exfoliation, courtesy of an uninvited shamaal (sandstorm) blustering through camp, forced us into the relative shelter of our trusty yellow tent. We were able to snatch a few more hours of sleep, dreaming of the windbreak still neatly rolled up in the top right hand corner of the shed at home, before we awoke to the rising sun.

With the car all packed and two very sandy twenty-year-olds ready for the drive home, it seemed the desert wasn't going to let us leave quite yet. We had been watching a herd of hungry camels nibbling their way across the distant dunes, wishing our camera lenses would magically extend or perhaps the camels themselves would head closer our way - if only they were to catch a whiff of our irresistible dark chocolate Tim Tams. Luckily our prayers were answered by the herder who came buzzing over to us on his quad bike and offered us a lift to the herd. Watching the camels eat their breakfast was a real bonus and getting up close and personal with them in their natural habitat makes you realise how well-adapted they are to such an inhospitable environment - it also makes you appreciate breath mints.

Spot the camel...

Having thanked the herder for giving us such a cool parting experience and paying him in dark chocolate Tim Tams and water (looking back on it, he probably would have preferred money... But we're sure the camels would have enjoyed our snacks), we piled into the Q5 and hit the road. 

Once safely back, unpacked and returned from a restorative swim in the sea, our minds soon turned to reminiscing over the last 24 hours. No prior desert experience is needed for a trip like this - although we had some. All you really need is a car, plenty of water, some shelter and a bit of common sense. Our main fear was having to park the car on sand - something that would have been risky without another car to tow you out of a sticky (and sandy) situation. Luckily the road leading to Tel Moreeb excluded any dune-bashing navigation, while this is always fun, the idea of sand-sinking parking is not; being able to park the car safely on tarmac certainly put our minds at ease. And besides, this way meant we were walking in the historical footprints of some of the world's greatest desert explorers.

It is true Dubai is built straight out of the desert - a trip up the Burj Khalifa helps to remind you of this - but a short adventure out of the city proves that the country boasts far more impressive sands. Anybody visiting the UAE should try to get out of the city and see the 'real' desert. Liwa could easily be done in a day trip - so long as you don't mind spending a few hours in the car. The quietness and stillness of the desert, when you're not caught in a shamaal, and the reminder of your own smallness in such a vast, empty space, is something that is increasingly difficult to find in today's crowding world. It is something that should be enjoyed by everyone before it is too late - not all at the same time though, because like we said, the emptiness is a good thing.