After sleeping for 10 hours, it was still early when I woke. Everyone else got up with the sun, around 6am. Like the Moslems, the camels knelt toward rising sun—with the rose-colored band of sky silhouetting them, it was the one photo I'd like to have taken. Our cooking pot was returned along with a new bowl of camel milk.
Unfortunately, I'm often too anxious about something or other to completely give way to enjoying myself. This time, because of the absence of any recognizable landmarks for me, it seemed to me like we were just wandering around and although Ahmed had given me no reason to distrust him, I was getting anxious to get back to Agadez,We were not retracing yesterday's path, but continuing on in a circle back to town. By 7:30am, it was already hot enough to burn fair skin; since my nose had recently burned and peeled, I had to keep it in my cheche all day. I must have looked almost like a native.
Ahmed was turning out to be a perfect traveling partner—he didn't talk a lot, but liked to trade little jokes with me, particularly on the metaphor of camel = Tuareg truck (getting it started, putting on the brakes, filling up, etc.) he also pointed out small gazelles in the distance, other signs of animals, what was good for camels to eat, which tribes people were from where, etc.) This was hardly even a journey for him, since he frequently travels for as much as a month, guiding as many as 25 people. If he goes for less than a couple of weeks, he doesn't have to bring food, because people will feed him.
After a couple of hours, he pointed out Agadez as three or four tiny structures on the horizon and I was relieved to see hat we'd been heading straight for it all along. Obviously, Ahmed knows his stuff. Unfortunately, we lost sight of it due to hills and ridges close to us and I became disoriented again. When we stopped at a hut for Ahmed to buy some chewing tobacco, I was given another big bowl of milk.
We pushed on in the heat for 4-1/2 hours, until Ahmed suggested we let the camels eat. I was dying to get off for a while, not so much because of my sore butt as because my legs were stiff and my knees cracking. We napped for more than an hour as the camels wandered around and although Ahmed wanted to wait until it got cooler, I said I wanted to get moving. As far as I was concerned, it stayed just as hot until 4 or 5 and I had no idea when we'd get back to town. It wasn't uncomfortably hot, because of a steady breeze, and after an hour, we sighted the big mosque and the big water tank of Agadez, not far away. Now that they stayed in view, I perked up and kept my camel beside Ahmed's, instead of following. Mine tended to be a slow-poke and I had to lightly whip him to keep up. It had excellent peripheral vision and could see me lifting the rope, so it sped up before I could use it.As we got close to town, there were large Tuareg encampments. When we finally dismounted, it was only 3pm, but I'd had 6-1/2 hours of actual riding today, and it was enough. On my way to the hotel, Jens hollered to me from a coffee stand. jean-Michel, Farar, he and a new Frenchman had slept outdoors last night and were all hanging out at this shack. They were planning to get a taxi-brousse to Niamey—it costs $20 less than the bus and takes a more direct route, so I decided to go along with them.
Checked back into the hotel, sharing Marcel's room. Washed the camel off me, wrote for quite a while, went out for a salad with Marcel, slept like a log.
PHOTO CREDIT 1
PHOTO CREDIT 2
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