This month is the craziest since our arrival and I had thought that last month was pretty crazy. March is a month of sandstorms, shamal winds and sport. I have never known anything like it in terms of the sporting schedule and the weather has been mad – it is headline news in The National and Gulf News. Just like the UK really – just a different sort of weather.

The weather that is making the headlines in Dubai this month, is brought by the shamal wind. This is a north westerly, dry, dusty wind from Iraq, Iran and the Arabian Peninsula. Its arrival leads to temperatures and visibility dropping quite considerably. Fishermen are advised to stay away from the sea for several days as the waters are extremely rough and many ships at sea are battered by the force of the wind and sea. Motorists are told to take extra

care. Apparently this is quite unusual at this time of year, but we enjoy the cooler weather knowing that the heat and humidity will be back before we know it. The dust and sand at home begins to drive us all a bit mad – it gets everywhere and you can feel it under your bare feet as you walk around, however many times you sweep!

The first weekend that the wind stops we decide to go out for what will probably be our last camping expedition this season. We decide to head up the west coast to Ras Al Khaimah (another emirate) to a beach that is just beyond a deserted old fishing village. Since returning, I discover that the village, Al Jazirah Al Hamra was the last traditional fishing and pearl diving village in the UAE and had been inhabited since the 16th Century. Driving on the soft sand along what were once alleyways between the various buildings, it

feels quite eery – there are abandoned, decrepit buildings on either side of us and if we met another vehicle coming towards us (very unlikely) we would find ourselves reversing a rather long way. There is an old fort, a watch tower, wind towers, a

square where the souk used to be, the remains of merchants homes with what were once beautiful carved doors – all empty. The village was abandoned in the late 1960s with the decline of the pearl trade (cultured pearls were being made in Japan by then) and the villagers were lured by better government housing in a new village nearby. We turn a corner and we leave the close quarters of the village and find the sea and beach in front of us. I feel relieved to be out of the village. It is only when I do more research that I discover that the village is believed to be home to the Djinn – invisible spirits mentioned in the Koran that Muslims believe inhabit the earth and influence mankind. We’d call it a haunted village. Despite this, I know that we will return to take photographs, as the village, despite it’s crumbling appearance, is an amazing record of the area’s history. I only hope that the powers that be will recognise this before it’s too late and the buildings are lost forever.

The beach however, is a complete disaster. Despite a perfect location, a wide stretch of white sand and warm and clear water, the beach is littered with rubbish and not just a bit that we can clear up ourselves to find a patch to set up camp – it is a disgrace and a tragedy. Despite this our little female ‘Gerald Durrell’ is in her element as the beach is packed (in between the rubbish) with all kinds of new shells! I’m afraid that my enthusiasm for beach combing wains somewhat, but when she calls me across to look at one particular shell, when I see what is in it, I rather determinedly decide that it’s time to leave. She finds a cone shell – very beautiful on the outside, but as she picks it up and turns it over, a rather horrible looking thing shoots out and we can see what looks like two eyes. It makes my skin crawl! The snail that lives within the shell has a hypodermic-like radula tooth (like a dart) that shoots out to poison its intended prey. They are ‘carnivorous and predatory’. One of these cone snails is also known as the ‘cigarette snail’ – when stung by it you will only have enough time to smoke a cigarette before dying. Hmmmm, time to leave the beach and any more shell collecting.

The day begins to feel like a disaster in the making as the whole of this coastline seems to be strewn with rubbish. Father of the Tribe is ready to call it a day and head back home. The Tribe are horrified at the thought of returning home. They are desperate to have another camping adventure. So am I. I sit in the front of the truck trying to look at the maps that we have. Finally, I decide that I have found a solution. We are going to camp in the desert for the first time. There is a suggested area in our ‘Off Road Explorer’ book that is a short detour on the way back to Dubai. Father of the Tribe looks sceptical but follows my navigation.

Half an hour later we turn off the main road in front of a row of houses and then follow a track that goes alongside a camel racetrack. We are on soft sand. This is not good and Father of the Tribe is not looking happy. We have not deflated the tyres. There is a white 4×4

driven by a local in front of us. The Tribe suddenly ask “what are those people doing to that goat?”. To our left within the racetrack, a group of men are hanging a goat by its rear and chest so that it is suspended upright about 5 or 6 feet off the ground, from an attachment off the back of a pick up truck. I’m pretty sure that the goat is not being hung but it is very odd and as we pass it, the truck begins to drive off with the goat beginning to swing wildly from side to side. Back home I try to find out about it, but all that I discover is that goats are sometimes sacrificed to celebrate the birth of a child. Perhaps the goat was to be sacrificed after all.

Meanwhile, I am silently praying that we are not going to get stuck in the sand. Suddenly in front of us we see half a dozen white 4x4s and pickup trucks, lots of men in kandoras, dogs and more goats. To avoid this gathering, we decide to veer off to the right towards a paved track that disappears into the desert. However, we soon discover that the paved track has been almost completely covered by sand after all the recent high winds. And it’s getting dark. I get out to judge how deep the sand drifts are and very soon we decide to drive to the left across the sand under the shadow of a towering sand dune to set up camp. The sun will soon disappear completely behind the dune, we need to get set up quickly. Fortunately this is possible, but as night arrives so do an impossible number of flying insects. Is this whole trip turning into a complete and utter disaster?

With the tents erected, the campfire going, the Tribe finally leaving their flip flops on their feet (standing on a snake – we have seen rather a lot of telltale snake tracks, scorpion or other local resident would really add the finishing touch to the day), the flying insect fraternity becoming less intrusive and a drink in our hand, we can relax and marvel at the peace and space of our environment. Having never before been interested in camping in the desert, we can now appreciate how totally awesome it is. The silence is astonishing – not a sound, not a whisper of wind, not even the scurrying of insects – the Tribe are of course asleep by now, as the chance of silence when they are awake is extremely slim! The sky is totally clear and we can see a myriad of stars, pinpricks of bright light against the inky black of the heavens. I think of the Bedouin Tribe in days gone by sitting around their campfires, under the stars, eating dates and drinking camel’s milk, telling stories from their rich heritage. Light from their campfires would guide lost travellers in the desert and according to tradition, they would always be made welcome. It is a terribly evocative, romantic image.

As dawn breaks, the entire Tribe are awake and full of excitement. Our tents are totally surrounded by fog and we can barely see 5 feet in front of us – I never envisaged this. Father of the Tribe is off with his camera and disappears into the mist. Gradually, our visibility increases and we can see exactly where we camped. The sands here are golden, tinged with a beautiful red from the iron ore that can be found in it.

We are surrounded by Sodom’s Apple shrubs that are in flower – they are quite striking flowers and most unexpected in the desert. Their leaves are a grey, green and large, with an ability to create a moisture retaining microclimate using the fine, white, silky hairs on them. The flowers are waxy, white and purple and found in clusters at the end of the branches. The wood from the shrub was once used to make charcoal for the production of gunpowder. We have a wonderful breakfast, including fresh coffee(!), in the clear, clean air. The peace however is suddenly interrupted as a camel appears at the top of the dune in front of us. It has a pale blue saddle on it and a robot jockey. It stops briefly before ploughing down the steep dune as a pickup truck flies over the ridge in hot pursuit. Astonishingly, the vehicle crosses the soft sand at high speed with no problem at all. The camel stops abruptly turns and runs (I jest not) back up the slope. There is a lot of shouting from the men and it is marvellous entertainment for us. Camel racing is very popular and the camels are able to run long distances at high speeds. However, the camels must be caught at the finish line as they are liable to keep on running. We assume that this is what has happened out here. Breakfast has never been so entertaining! Over the next hour or so the Tribe climb up the soft sand of the dunes and run down having a wonderful time. The sky is now a perfect blue and the sight of them at the ridge of the dune giggling as they attempt to run in the deep sand is delightful. They tell us that they can see for miles from the ridge and our little campsite was the only thing they could see in the desert – they were amazed at how insignificant we are.

As we pack up, a large black beetle, with white spots emerges – it is a Domino Beetle, its white spots giving it the local name ‘mother of yoghurt’. It is unusual and striking but is predatory and will eat small rodents. We also see several Rock Semaphore Geckos hiding in the shadow of the tent. They are small and pretty with a horizontal white stripe running through each eye. They use their tails to signal to each other and a whole range of messages can be conveyed by the posture of their tail and body. One thing that we do discover on this trip is that the littlest has none of her siblings delight in nature. When the Domino Beetle runs towards her she screams in complete terror and runs to my legs – this happens several times. It amuses us all no end but just goes to prove that there’s an awful lot to be said on this nature over nurture debate! Returning to Dubai, Father of the Tribe comments how it feels as though we’ve been away for days, so despite yesterday’s debacles, our camping in the desert has been a resounding success.

Back to sport and the BSME Games are a huge success – Horizon comes first in athletics, netball and overall. We are terribly, terribly proud of our eldest and her brother and sisters deserve their own medals for their support over a long

weekend of competing. We are all exhausted though and as the end of the month comes round, I hear on the radio that ‘bikini season’ has arrived – it’s nearly the end of term and we’re back on the beach. Hooray!

Mother of the ‘very exhausted’ Tribe