It was David, who also happened to be the CEO of the charity
for which we were all undertaking this challenge, who had spoken about ‘risk’
on our first evening in the desert, gathered around a comforting fire beneath a
bright moon and stars that seemed curious to know us. He read a poem, the
upshot of which was ‘if you don’t ever take risks you are not living’. Sitting
on that ridge, having walked along its length as it turned from rock to sand,
dropping sharply on both sides who knows how far, I allowed myself a few
moments to reflect on just how true those words had been.
For me, and for many of the group, this was the high point
of the trek, both physically and emotionally. The peak of a trek that seemed to
take an age to start. Having spent a day on aeroplanes and airport floors, it
was a relief to finally be within striking distance of what we had come for.
After a reasonably comfortable night in a budget hotel, we were ready to crack
on, to put all that training to good use. After a few hours on buses, driving
out into increasingly remote landscapes, it was with some trepidation that we
were transferred into our off-road vehicles. It wasn’t quite cattle-class, but
the stifling air inside our vans was thick with jokes about kidnapping and
illegal immigrants. Another couple of hours into our journey and we were beyond
fed up – it was desert enough for us, honest, and we would just love to start
the trek now…let me out!!!
Eventually, a tired, somewhat dishevelled group of trekkers
were dumped somewhere in the Moroccan Sahara and we were off!
I don’t mind admitting, that first night in the desert was
tough. Lying in my tent with five complete strangers, three of whom were competing
for the title of top trek snorer, the fatigue of the travelling combined with a
realisation that there was no ducking out now. It wasn’t so much ‘I’m a celebrity
get me out of here’ as ‘I’m a blind guy stuck in the desert with a bunch of
other blind/partially-sighted people and I’d really like to go home now please’.
Although my main bag felt heavy enough, neither Ant nor Dec had travelled with
me from Newcastle, and I didn’t reckon my chances of getting a taxi home were
that good. Had I thought about it more in advance, I would have been more
prepared for my mild panic. Going away from a familiar environment like home or
work, always renders me more disabled – not knowing where anything is, having to
ask for help – it’s the kind of dependency that I try to avoid, and after many
holidays and trips away I should expect this initial period of frustration as I
adapt to my new environment.
There was little chance of this gloom lasting long – there was
serious walking to be done, and some seriously good people to walk with. No
doubt each of them was dealing with their own personal challenges, taking their
own personal risks. Whilst we wanted for our creature comforts, kindness,
mutual respect and support were in abundance, and friendships formed that I
suspect will last for many miles to come. And we had a great mix of technical
and professional skills – I tell you, if the Moroccans had wanted us to build a
mail sorting office filled with very secure computers, lovely wooden furniture
and excellent plumbing, we were the men/women for the job. It seems word hadn’t
got through to the authorities, so instead we satisfied ourselves with putting
one foot in front of the other until someone who seemed to know what they were
doing guided us into a camp, where we were given nectar in the form of sweet
mint tea, and replenished with excellent local food, patched up, medicated and
congratulated on making it through the day.
Whilst my lack of central vision prevents me from enjoying
the many photos that have since emerged of this adventure, the experiences are
easily conjured back to mind…the sense of vast open space, the freedom of
walking unaided across flat, baked earth, the joyful laughter of our hosts, the
joy of a hot shower at the end.
And most of all, that sense of alertness, of living, of
taking that risk, as I stood on that ridge high up in the Saharan sky, and ran
forward…
1 comment:
Nicely written Richard and captures it. It was a privelege trekking with you. David.
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