talk about surviving and thriving!

“Be careful, the camels might eat you!” 

Upon hearing this cautionary advice from my friend’s mother, I laughed. Arabian camels are undeniably intimidating, standing tall at 7 feet (from the hump’s peak) and weighing up to 1,600 pounds. Rumor has it they hold a grudge and, even worse, can shoot searing saliva projectiles. Ouch – there goes my eye… 

But, certainly, a camel wouldn’t look sideways at a 5-foot-tall ginger woman. Especially one fighting for her life in the desert heat? Plus, our crew exceeded a dozen – at least one person would have the ability to go toe to toe with the creature. Right?

Though dipped in humor, her warning held a morsel of truth.

As I hauled camping supplies to our SUV, I was detached from the comment. My friend’s mom has a silly side and is a self-described worrywart. For me, Public Enemy Number One at that moment was the mass of individually packed snacks I had to wrestle into the trunk. Hour later, however, I would learn my lesson about a camel’s intensity as we arrived at the campgrounds in Oman’s Shariquah Sands.

A camel didn’t direct a hungry stare at me nor grin his sharpened teeth. He didn’t drag a hoof across his long neck, daring me to come closer. Instead, the dromedaries’ mere prominence in the expansive, sandy plains made me think twice about my own ability to survive. 

Or maybe I’m being dramatic (I don’t like the heat).

First, I want to provide more context: The Arabian camel is known to some as the “ship of the desert,” a well-deserved moniker that is reflective of the grit required to survive in this place. In a landscape that can reach up to 120°F (49°C), camels rarely sweat in the relentless heat and can easily store any fluids they find, whether from eating a plant or inhaling humid air. And those plants they’re munching on? These flora have evolved over thousands of years to develop protective mechanisms that help them withstand strong blasts of sunlight, dry spells and saline soils. Having small leaves minimizes water loss. Root designs dig deep into a well or spread close to the surface to quickly absorb its drink. Plants wait to seed, strategically planning the next generation’s growth during a nourishing season.

Deserts seem nearly inhospitable with scant rainfall, drastically fluctuating temperatures and forceful winds that make them extremely harsh to live in. Environmental-related deaths span from hyperthermia ("I'm burning up!") to hypothermia ("I can't feel my toes!") and dehydration to envenomation. Contrary to the dangers these “wastelands” pose to humans, plenty of lifeforms successfully endure these circumstances and established deep ecological importance.

Oman hosts more than 400 plant species and hundreds more animals, according to the Sultan Qaboos Cultural Center. Floristic influences from multiple continents extend into the country, only to meet in the middle with desert. The varying assemblages provide a trove of biodiversity and unique identities to Oman’s regions, from shrublands characteristic of northern Africa to juniper from southwest Asia.

In the middle, more than 80 percent of Oman is desert and valleys, much of which is claimed by the Empty Quarter, the world’s largest sand desert that spans across Saudia Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Yemen. This is also what makes up the Shariquah Sands. Upon first glance, the desert may appear as a barren landscape, though subscribing to that thought would rob you of learning about its impressive, magical qualities. The Emirates Natural History Group reports that this area has dozens of endemic plant species, meaning they are native and not found elsewhere. 

So, fast forward to our camping trip. We stayed in one of many tent clusters that dotted the wide valley. As I stared at the cascading hills, I couldn’t help but think of the camels eating me. Or, rather, the entire ecosystem swallowing me whole. But don’t misunderstand this as fear. I stood unblinkingly despite the sun burning my eyes, appreciating how shadows streaked the wind’s path on golden faces. I pondered what lived out here, yearning to understand how they came to be and whether they enjoyed their life.

The longer I stared, the more aware I was of the fact I was merely a skeleton in a flesh suit. My facial muscles and rising arm reflexed to shield my eyes from the brightness. At least I had these helpful mechanisms to protect myself, though in a small way. Cool sand moved fluidly around my toes, shifting my stride to a slog in what felt like shallow water. My smile, inescapable at this moment, cracked the center of my lips. If only I could absorb water like the camels or plants!

Watching wind whip the sand around shrubs and tents evoked a sensation of weightlessness in my chest. I felt small compared to what surrounded me, yet it was humbling and exhilarating. Time felt infinite, and yet somehow lengthened by the open air above our heads. The sky’s impression settled in my skin with the warmth of the sun and the sound of the stars (that's another story).

If you’ve read this far, I would love to know what you took away from these ramblings. Specifically, tell me how you see yourself in the context of these impressive testaments of survival. What picks up your brain, spins it around and sends you into a dizzy spell of giddiness, or an eagerness to learn more?

l.e.