We were absolutely not interested in the camel rides at the pyramids. They were skinny, filthy, pathetic animals, with hindquarters and tails dark-stained with diahhrea and dirt. The horses pulling the carts were in similar if not worse shape. They are all roughly treated by the handlers who take pains to not do this in front of the tourists.
After seeing all this, a few of our guests declined their camel ride excursion, but nasty tourists that we are, we wanted to get the photo.
Our tour operator’s communication about excursions is pretty low-detail as compared to Viator, so imagine our surprise when we were falucca’d across the Nile to a small desert valley in Aswan where our four camels waited. The head camel tender appraised our weight at a glance, and from his ATV nodded me towards a large camel named King. Mr A got the young camel Casanova (1 year 3 mo old), pulled by a kid and an energetic young man (the one holding the tea tray in the picture). Looking at the pictures now, King and Casanova seem to be about the same size. Ms F’s camel was Oscar.
The first challenge of camel riding is mounting. This starts by throwing your leg over basically the back of a sofa. The camel then stands up hind legs first, then the front legs last. So you lean way back with both hands on the pommel and as the hinds legs rise, you unavoidably pitch forward, seemingly aiming your head at the ground but miraculously the front of the camel rises just in time, whiplashing you up to what feels like 15 feet off the ground but is actually only 7 or 8 feet. King huffed and groaned audibly for a good 10 minutes. What did this mean? Did he hate me? Was I too heavy? I knew for a fact that baby Casanova was carrying a load only 10 lbs lighter than me. Mystery unsolved, we set off across the desert away from the Nile. (Tauntauns sound exactly like camels, btw.)
It was desert quiet, beautiful and peaceful, the sun was setting, a light breeze was blowing. An ancient fort lay in ruins on a distant hilltop. All we could hear were camel footsteps in the sands and the voices of the camel guides. We struggled to adapt to the plodding, swaying motion of the beasts. As I was generally able to ride with just one hand in the pommel, I took up the job of photographer. The guide tapped firmly on Casanova’s haunches to speed him up. Camel training.
We ascended a sandy hill. Halfway up, the guides slightly loosened their neck scarves over their long flowing galabeya (we tourists were in tshirts). Walking up this sandy incline would have destroyed me, but for them it was “no big deal” and they barely broke a sweat.
As we turned to reach the top of the bluff overlooking the Nile, a young village man appeared over the ridge that we had just struggled to ascend on camelback, carrying a metal tray on which was balanced 5 glass mugs and a pot of tea, and in Adidas shower sandals. In fact I think he came up an even steeper trail. We paused to give the camels a rest although I was sure they could have gone on for many hours. I mean, we know whose hindquarters really needed a rest. (To sit, i believe the camels went down on their knees first then their hocks. Ouch. But easiest for the riders.)
The tea was poured. Full service – they even had sugar and mint. The camel guides sang a song, we clapped along, and we danced.
The ride back down the dunes was uneventful and it was easier to balance on the saddle this time. Horse lover that I am, I was sorry to leave our mounts behind and I longed to establish a communion with King but there was no time. The camels didn’t smell and they didn’t spit (ok they might have complained). If you want to ride camels this is the way to do it. Give the pyramids location a pass.
Farewell camels – until next time.
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