Camel Cowboy - Episode II

To see some pictures of this journey, scoot the mouse to the right just a bit and click on the link that says, Micah's Online Albums. If you're not into the whole visual stimulation thing, here are some highlights from the journal of the Camel Cowboy.

Bus Stop Magic

Eight friends piled into a van on October 2, 2010 at 6:02 am in Beijing, China. We were headed off on a grand adventure – a 15 hour, 750 mile road trip west to Ningxia Province (the Arizona of China) to ride camels and camp in the Gobi Desert for 2.3 days. My friend Becca exclaimed, “I love road trips. The only thing we’re missing is a Mc Donald’s breakfast.” There is something exhilarating about a road trip; the anticipation of a journey that only you can make. But before we headed west we picked up one more friend: JunNing. She was waiting for us at a bus stop with a cardboard box in both hands and a burse (backpack and purse mix) slung over her shoulder. She opens the van door and hands us the big box and says, “Careful, there’s coffee inside.” I check under one flap and recognize the unmistakable McDonald’s colors of 10 coffees and 10 Asian McGriddles and ask Becca, “What did were you just missing?” then hand her a McDonald’s coffee courtesy of JunNing. This is the stuff of bus stop magic.

Hump of Wonders

During this 15 hour road trip westward we couldn’t help but imagine what lurked within the camel’s hump, what powers it possessed. And so we dreamt of humps that had electrical outlets and iPod jacks. We dreamt of humps with zippers and lids that revealed a chocolate fondue or a chilled 24 pack of Red Bull within. We dreamt of shifting humps like the stick of a Porsche – sending our camel into gears of blinding speed. But when we arrived in the desert and introduced ourselves to our camels, we weren’t disappointed, but just left wanting. Some camel’s had a bad case of Humpius Droopius – like an orca whale in captivitity – a hump that has lost all pride. I propped one up and it fell back to its bored and sorrily droopy state. It seems as though the glory was replaced by gristle and the fondue was replaced functionality. Good thing God is the Creator, not me.

Humped Alarm Clock

After living in a city where smog is a constant grey blanket – stifling sun and stars – seeing the incandescent glory of a starry night is a truly awesome sight. Seeing the hazy tentacle of the Milky Way Galaxy dangle in the cosmos reminds me of just how small I am. The One who showed the stars their places and tells the squall to be still knows the number of hairs on my head. Talk about goosebumps of comfort. I slept outside with my friend Phil both nights in the desert. How could I stuff myself in a synthetic tent when I can inhale the glory above as I lie in my cocoon of a sleeping bag? Sleeping in a tent in such fantastic weather and starry splendor would be an act of terrorism (well, that’s a bit strong I guess). So Phil and I perched ourselves on the spine of a dune with the cluster of tents in the sandy valley to our right. I had to remind myself to blink that night. The stars were rather addicting. As we surrendered to sleep, my heart was full and refreshed by the desert air, the blue skies, the radiance above, and the gristly glory that is a camel hump. My eyelids popped open when I heard a camel master’s herding call, “Hipp. Hipp. Heep.” I blinked a few times as I remembered where I was – on a sand dune in the Gobi Desert with the rising sun turning the world a purplish orange hue. I sat up and saw something that I’ve never seen in my 22 years, 6 months, 13 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes and 48 seconds of life (that was an exact calculation folks): a large camel pacing back and forth not seven feet away. I jabbed Phil with my elbow. He popped up and exclaimed in a surprised whisper, “Holy ****.” The humped beast couldn’t decide what to do: a) trample the sleeping bodies that lay in his path; b) leap over the sleeping bodies that lay in his path; c) trot down the slope of the dune thus avoiding the sleeping bodies that lay in his path The camel chose choice C, and we lay back down unsure of whether to sleep or rejoice.

Barefoot for a Day

Who wears shows when you’re in a sandbox? After we stopped and made camp on day #1 most camel cowboys decided to forgo the footwear and let the sand ooze between our toes. This was a choice I do not regret.

Saddle Up

The camel masters couldn’t believe how I mounted my camel. Usually you mount a camel by getting astride its back while the animal is kneeling, you buckle yourself into the humps and then it rises – booty first then the front. Well, I tried something a little more John Wayne-esc. I swung up like a cowboy does with his horse – grabbing the horn with his left hand and vaulting himself into the saddle. Well one day I hopped off of our camel train to take a wizzle and trotted back to my mount and vaulted myself between the humps. The camel masters loved it. Pretty soon I joined the “Adopt a Desert Program” and was hopping on and off to go pick up lost water bottles. I have a picture of the Gobi in my wallet, I’m so proud (just like Kramer).

Ignorant Bliss

So we really didn’t voyage into a desert wilderness without any trace of civilization. The camel masters sort of led us in circles in the desert. We could see power lines for most of the time in the distance and the occasional smoke stack from your friendly neighborhood nuclear power plant. Our closeness to civilization came to a crescendo when one camel master would hop on his humped steed and trot off to town and come back 1.8 hours later with hot food in Tupperware bins … camel take out. But we didn’t let our aimless wandering hamper our excitement or fun. We sang songs around the campfire (probably the first time that Amazing Grace has been sung amidst the laughs and yells of camel masters playing Mongolian drinking games a few feet away) and took dance lessons from the ladies, they taught us some 21^st century dance by Shakira or Miley Cyrus or some singer that thinks her looks compensate for her lack of talent (my theory was, when in doubt of the next move, simply thrust). We looked like a bunch of natives dancing around the fire, with a few rhythmically challenged lepers lurking in the shadows with not a shred of rhythm.

These are the musings of the Camel Cowboy.

- m -