Sleeping out in the desert is an interesting, but somewhat uncomfortable experience; the bedrolls are not quite thick enough and the sandy ground is not as soft as you might imagine. We are up around 6.30 for breakfast of toast and marmalade , bananas and sweet chai. Our French companions both speak excellent English and are self-confessed anglophiles having lived in London for a couple of years. Stefan is an academic studying for a PhD in economics in Chicago and Marie has just given up a job as an analyst in London to join him there. They have been excellent company on the trip, both having a good sense of humour, and we’d been getting on really well until the conversation over breakfast turns to politics and Stefan states he would never visit a communist country. To cut a long discussion very short, Andy announces he would rather live in a communist country than America. At which Stefan suddenly and without any other provocation launches into a tirade of abuse, swearing and ranting saying he’d have found it more acceptable if Andy said he’d prefer to live in Nazi Germany. Flabbergasted, we think it best to withdraw since there seems to be no possibility of placating him as he continues to berate Andy. Fortunately they are returning to Jaisalmer after breakfast and they don’t speak to us again.
After packing up camp we ride the camels to a small village where the rains have filled a small waterhole. It’s here that the rest of our party are being picked up for the return to Jaisalmer whilst we are being joined by another group for the rest of the day. As we wait for the jeep to arrive we watch the comings and goings around the small oasis; village women in their vividly coloured saris arrive in groups to collect water in metal urns almost too heavy to lift but which they carry on their heads with effortless grace. Children from the local school have heard we are here and come in shy groups to say hello and ask for pens and empty water bottles. One boy has been given a half-full bottle of mineral water by one of the group and immediately proceeds to empty this precious liquid on the ground. It turns out that the villagers would rather re-fill the bottles from the murky waters of the pool that camels drink from and people bathe in rather than drink mineral water that has come into contact with the lips of someone else! In India no-one puts the neck of a bottle to their lips, instead they pour the water into their mouths or drink from a cupped hand. Only foreigners taint the water by drinking directly from the bottle making it dirtier, as far as Indians are concerned, than water from a muddy pool.
A water tanker is brought down to the pool to siphon off the water to fill the cisterns of the houses in the village. All the water will taken away and stored otherwise it will become too brackish to drink. Unbelievably, to us, the villagers drink this water without treating it in any way and we see several people come to the pool to drink. There are startling contrasts in India – on the one hand people drink untreated water and live with unwholesome open drains and yet there is widespread mobile phone usage and network coverage far more extensive than in Australia.
Today the camels aren’t tied together and mine is way out front. I’ve got the hang controlling it’s direction; a gentle tug on the reins to left or right does the trick. But I have no idea how to stop it! Apparently, I learn later, pulling its head back so it can’t see where it’s going brings it to a halt. Fortunately they are placid, well-mannered beasts and walk at a gentle, but steady pace. My camel is the mother of a baby which has accompanied the safari tagging along usually just behind or alongside me all the way.
The temperature seems to have soared today and there is less breeze. When we stop for lunch our camel drivers are in no hurry to move on preferring to wait for the heat to abate. We are with a good bunch of people today; a young Dutch couple, and English guy from a village somewhere between Ilkley and Skipton, and another couple who are possibly Dutch as well. It’s 4.30 before we pack up and move on; we’ve spent most of the afternoon chatting and very little of the day on a camel! Half –an-hour’s ride further on we meet our jeep pick-up and say our goodbyes to the rest of the group who are heading to the dunes for their night under the stars. The road back to Jaisalmer about 30 kms away is in good condition but very uneven and consequently it’s a bumpy ride. It also narrow, which means pulling over whenever we meet anything coming the other way. We arrive back, hot, sweaty and uncomfortably sandy.
Our first task on returning to Jaisalmer is to book a taxi to take us to Bikaner tomorrow. We got a price from a taxi stand a couple of days ago which was half what was being quoted elsewhere. But when we go back to book this evening the price starts at 2,500 rupees and then suddenly and inexplicably increases to 3,500. Annoyed by the blatant attempt to over-charge us we walk away and are immediately surrounded by taxi drivers wanting to offer us a better price – it’s amazing the impact of walking away can have – and we settle on a price of 2,800.
We say our goodbyes to some of the people we have met during our stay in Jaisalmer and spend our last night having dinner on a roof-top restaurant in the fort that has far-reaching views out over the desert.