The avalanche of camellias races forward with devastating force

Tanja’s birthday camp – 02.09.2002

At 5:00 a.m., the beep of our Suunto watches wakes us from a deep sleep. We slowly lift our stiff and aching limbs over the edge of the camp beds and get ready for the day. Howard will be waiting for us at 7:00 am at the track behind the lake bed. We don’t want to be too late and hurry to pack everything we need for the camel return in our small rucksacks. After a quick muesli breakfast, we set off. We are just hurrying over the small hill on the other side of the lake when Howard arrives.

“You must have had a good night’s sleep,” he greets us kindly. “Fine, but far too short,” I reply, climbing into the jeep. “I’ve brought some more water. Who knows, maybe your boys will want some more.” “Ah, that’s very good. It could well be that one or two of them could do with another bucket,” Tanja replies.

“How’s the water search going? Have you started drilling yet?” I want to know. “Yes, yes, I’m already three meters deep.” “And how much further down do you have to go?” “Twenty-seven meters.” “How long does it take you?” “It depends on whether I hit rocks or not, but on average I manage three meters a day,” he replies as our camels come into view. “They’re all still here,” says Tanja happily, because after our recent experiences, that’s not at all a given.

“Good morning Sebastian,” I greet our caravan leader and place a bucket of water in front of him. It takes less than a minute to empty it completely. We are amazed when he sucks in two more buckets. With the 80 liters from yesterday, he then drank 110 liters within nine hours. His comrades also drink between one and two buckets. Their bellies now look so unnaturally distended that you would think they were inflated with air and would take off at any moment.

Now that everyone has filled their tanks to the brim, we say goodbye to Howard again. “If nothing comes up, we won’t see each other again for a long time,” I say, shaking his hand with a laugh. “Don’t forget to visit me on the way back to Perth. I had a great time with you,” he says, a little sad at having to say goodbye again. “We’ll do our best,” I reply and really hope to see him again. Then he drives off and once again we are on our own.

“I have a bad feeling about returning them without a nose leash,” Tanja thinks aloud. “What could possibly go wrong?” “If they panic for any reason, you’ll have trouble keeping them under control.” “There’s no other option, so let’s not be afraid of something that will probably never happen,” I say reassuringly.

Then we pick them up one by one, tie their front feet together as usual and knot them together with the neck ropes. It is exactly the same procedure as on a normal running day, with the subtle difference that we cannot additionally tie them to the saddles with the nose leash. Although the thin nose line breaks under heavy loads, it is precisely this line that is responsible for making a caravan controllable. So Tanja’s concerns aren’t just a pipe dream. Should they actually go through, they will not be stopped by the neck rope.

“Camis epna!” I shout, and they jump up obediently. “Camis walk up!” I order and our runaways set off. As it is only six kilometers as the crow flies from here to our camp, we decide to walk back in a cross-country run. If we were walking on the winding track, it would be 15 kilometers. This saves us at least two hours of walking.

As if the camels haven’t had anything in their bellies for a long time, they tug wildly at their neck ropes and eat the thorny stuff. They can be compared to a group of naughty children and no matter what we say, they do what they want. “Istan! Now control yourself a bit! You’re almost killing Jafar!” I shout angrily, but Istan completely ignores me. Jasper, who has been allowed to walk without a nose leash for a long time, also behaves like a rough lout. He pulls sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right and yanks on the neck rope in such a way that it moves Edgar to the side.

Suddenly Hardie comes forward and joins Sebastian. Istan thinks it’s huge and imitates him. Jafar apparently thinks to himself, I can do what they do, and now runs alongside Istan. Edgar and Jasper don’t need to be told twice to overtake their comrades in the front row. The neck ropes are tangled together and six camels are running directly behind me, ready to dash forward at any moment to flatten me. An extremely uneasy feeling spreads through me. This dangerous formation is simply not possible with the nose lines. They are forced to follow the rider in front but without saddles we have no way of attaching the nose leads. (At this point we do not yet know that some caravan leaders also tie the nose lines to the tail of the camel in front). Although the neck rope is almost indestructible, it does not hold the camels back. They are quite insensitive at the neck, so they run side by side and thus enjoy almost unlimited freedom of movement.

“I’ll tie the ropes shorter,” says Tanja. “Okay,” I reply and stop our boys. But unfortunately Tanja’s action hardly helps. A few minutes later, they line up in a similar formation. I quickly hurry ahead. Sebastian is the only one I can control with a nose line. As we cross a stone plateau, the runaways get bolder and bolder. They want to overtake each other and start bouncing in the air like a bouncy ball with exuberance and joy. “Go back! Hardie! Istan! Go back!” Tanja and I shout. They do indeed hear us, but again it only takes seconds for them all to push forward again. “That doesn’t look good Denis,” Tanja warns me. “True, but what should we do?” “I would hobble them.” “Then it will take us ages to reach our camp,” I reply to Sebastian, moving through a forest of gidyea.

I lead Sebastian past a tree on the right. Hardie and Jafar follow, but Istan wants to go his own way and tries to go around the tree on the left. The neck rope immediately tightens around the unyielding trunk. Jafar is pulled back. Yells because the rope is now choking his neck. Hardie also slows down abruptly and yells out. It only takes a fraction of a second for the merciless rope to pull Istan to the right side. He, and of course we too, are lucky. Such a situation can easily cost him his neck.

It’s beastly hot again. We are sweating terribly, the flies are almost unbearable and the rough scree doesn’t make our progress any easier. The moment has come when I’ve had enough. My body just wants to rest. I would love to bury myself in a big hole. Far away from the miserable sea of flies, the heat and the incessant challenges. I fight against my negative feelings, try not to fall into an emotional hole when it happens again, which shouldn’t happen. “Watch out Denis!” Tanja soon yells, jumping explosively to the side. Before I can get my body to safety, the muscle power of six camels breaks out behind me.

Jasper wanted to nibble off a low bush just above the ground. But Edgar kept running and pulled Jasper’s neck rope taut and yanked his head up. Jasper was startled and jumped into the air on all fours like a firecracker. Edgar was also startled by this and rushed forward like a bolt of lightning. He has infected Istan, who is always nervous anyway, and suddenly the whole avalanche of camellias is rushing towards me with devastating force.

My adrenaline level shoots through my skull. A primal force detonates inside me, which in a single moment propels my legs to top speed and catapults my body forward. Sebastian is on my right and the other five on my left. It goes through me like a bolt of lightning. I have to get out of there, otherwise I’ll be overrun by our expedition partners. Together we race over the scree. Because I can only keep up with the increasing speed of the camels for a few seconds, the pliers close. Following an impulse, I fling my right arm upwards and hit Sebastian’s larynx with my fist. Startled, he pulls his head back and slows down for a fraction of a second. This is the moment when I push my body past his raging, massive body to get to safety on the right side of the avalanche of camellias. I still hold the lead and nose line in my hands. “Denis! Denis!” it screams through the dust-filled air. Tremendous pain shoots through my right hand. Thinking is limited, almost collapses. “Don’t let go! Just don’t let go!” a hot scream pierces the fog of my control center. I stumble and am pushed into a tree by Sebastian’s torso. Branches whip around my face. My lungs are burning like hell and at this moment I think I’m stepping into a world stuffed with soft, gray absorbent cotton. “Stay there! You’re not going! Hold on to the ropes!” a rough but clear inner voice commands me. Like a round dance of madness, the camels now race in a large circle, roaring loudly. “Denis! Denis!” a cry of fear hammers in my eardrums.

Sebastian is forced to reduce his speed by the nose and lead line, which I hold with borrowed, inhuman strength in my hands, which are roaring with pain. He drags me a few more meters behind him until he comes to a halt, breathing heavily. The other five desert animals bounce like exploded hand grenades around the center that Sebastian and I form until they calm their raging dance. Suddenly they pause. They pant heavily and look at me with their eyes wide open. The pain in my hand suddenly intensifies to the point of being absolutely unbearable. “Ahhhh!” I gasp and drop to my knees. At this moment Tanja storms around the camel circle and takes the lead and nose line from my hand. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” it sounds in my head as I writhe in pain. “No… I’m okay… I’m okay…” I stutter, kneeling on the hard stones and holding my right hand. Slowly it becomes clear again in my foggy mind. The pain eases a little and I find my speech again. “It’s the ankle. The knuckle on my right hand that Edgar injured almost two months ago,” I gasp through my tears. I now carefully examine the hand to see if everything is still in place. The knuckle of the little finger is swollen but fortunately not dislocated. While Tanja holds Sebastian, I sit on the floor for a few more minutes until I’ve regained my composure.

“We put the hobbles on them,” says Tanja a little later. “Yes,” I answer meekly. Just half an hour later, I lead Sebastian and Hardie. They didn’t hop, but two camels being led without a nose leash doesn’t mean any danger. The other four are now wearing their hobbles again. They all run individually, so they are no longer tied together with the neck ropes. Their herd instinct is so strong that they follow Sebastian and Hardie. Nevertheless, Tanja brings up the rear so that not one of them is left behind.

We reach our camp at 11:00 am. We tie the runaways to their trees and sit down in the partial shade of the gidyea. We sit there in a daze for a long time, drinking one cup of water after another. “That was pretty close,” Tanja breaks the silence. “Damn close. For a brief moment I thought I wouldn’t make it,” I reply, massaging my hand. “It was a mistake to tie them together with just the neck ropes.” “Absolutely. You never stop learning,” I agree with her.

In the afternoon we pack everything up. We haven’t been able to rest since we arrived here. On the contrary, this camp took more energy and strength out of our bones than the toughest desert run. We agree that this place won’t bring us any luck and decide to move on first thing in the morning. We hope to get the necessary rest at Marion Down Station. It’s still over 120 kilometers through tough terrain, but it’s easier to run every day than to have to fight to keep going.