We have just returned from our most hair-raising adventure yet. The canopy walk in the Amazon jungle, charging elephants in Africa, climbing Kilimanjaro, durian eating in Malaysia are all tame in comparison to what we went through on Saturday. If someone had warned me with a video beforehand, you would have had to manhandle me into that car. I kid you not.
To set the scene, let me tell you that Qatar is not teeming with tourist attractions and, therefore, you won't have to go far before meeting up with someone who has been to the Inland Sea on the border between Qatar and Saudi Arabia. It's a "must-do" for all ex-pats who head down there in droves. Only trouble is, there are no roads at all from a certain point - only sand dunes. And these are not baby sand dunes - they stand two and three hundred feet high. These "mountains" have to be navigated before getting anywhere near the Inland Sea. And I am convinced there is a secret society who have all bonded together and formed a pact that they won't tell the innocent - kind of a rite of passage. 
It all began very sedately. There were five of us altogether and we were picked up by our tour guide in his Landcruiser - vehicle of choice for dune bashing. He was seemingly a very unassuming, introverted type, muttering in monosyllables only when he had to. After a very uneventful drive to a collection point, things started hotting up. First observation was the abaya-clad lady who straddled a quad bike like a pro and took off with revving engine, abaya billowing around her looking like a big black balloon ready for take off, and her hijab straight out behind her. She left us staring wide-eyed, choking on her dust. Then there were the gentlemen who sailed past us on two wheels smiling like Chesire cats. This is apparently a common past-time that has been perfected here. 
After that, it felt a little ordinary to watch ex-pats and tourists climb on a bored camel and get a slow ride for all of 20 feet. While we were taking photos, our driver proceeded to let the air out of all the tires, flattening them to almost pancake status. We should have known from this sinister move that boring was not part of this adventure.
One minute after climbing back into the car, the "fun" began. Nazir appeared to have changed personalities, becoming an engine-revving, speed demon intent on getting us up and down every dune available. If it was just the up and down I think I could have handled it better - it was when the car was at a 45 degree angle, driving across the side of the dune, and sliding down by gravity that I knew I was in trouble.
Meg and I sat at the back of the vehicle - just as well as we did not get quite the views that others did. Husband no. 1 in the front seat probably had the worst of it, but husband no. 2 directly behind the driver could see it all as well. Clinging to each other, Meg and I held clammy hands for dear life - I am sure I bruised the poor lady a couple of times. Both of us emitted squeaks and squeals with every stomach jolting, back jarring contretemps. Meg, I am sure, kept her eyes shut through a lot of it, as did I, and at the really bad moments I was grovelling my head in the seat, wishing and hoping that the "joy ride" would be over soon. There were times when there was absolute silence from the front of the car - I have to think that the husbands hearts were in their throats as well. There were at least a few occasions when we gave in and asked the inevitable back seat question: "Are we there yet?", praying that they would please say yes.
I don't think I will ever be able to describe the intensity of dune bashing. The worst was driving up the hill and knowing that at the crest, we would go zooming straight down the other side at a 45 degree angle or dance along the side of the dune mountain. At the half way point, Nazir stopped in a valley, obviously thinking that it would give us some Kodak moments of other Landcruisers sailing over a particularly grueling point. He was dealing with the wrong crowd - one look at what he proposed we should do was enough to get a resounding "no!" from the ladies. Nazir and another driver tried to cajole us into attempting the feat by pointing out that the French lady over there, who is 88 was screaming "go, go" while she was doing it. Patrick, in his usual dry manner, pointed out that the lady in question was "probably senile". I think Nazir was quite disappointed that he missed out on that maneuver.
On the plus side, we did have some beautiful views of Saudi Arabia across the Arabian Gulf. The Inland Sea was interesting, but not quite what we expected - more like tidal pools than a sea. Our final destination was a Bedouin camp where we sat in a majilis style tent and had a bbq while we watched the sunset across the ocean. Oh, yes and we got to ride our camel at a dainty and sedate pace - nice change from the dune bashing.
I was a bit concerned at the end of the evening that we would have to do dune bashing in the dark. After a bit of teasing by Nazir, I was thankful that he took the valley route and only a few minor dunes for the way back. Or perhaps I had grown accustomed and my anxiety meter was lower.
What I will remember most - an outing with friends that ended with a bright crescent moon and a starry, starry night sky.
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