Still Day 3 - Desert Storm

Or Riding the Dunes with the Stig

Exhausted but not defeated by the extreme heat of the morning expedition, we emerged for an afternoon of adrenalin pumping sport and found ourselves once more in the company of men.

Glen had just arrived from Perth and was keen to venture forth, four delightful, cherry young men from Bangladesh and last but far from least Mohamed, the crazed Syrian, whose driving caused alarm even before we struck the sand.

We left Dubai in a blaze of speed, tail gating and passing all in our path. We were on a raceway, our average speed grew to 140 miles per hour. And for the first, but not the last in the course of the evening, we began to fear for our lives.

Mohamed was a man of few words who did little to alleviate the nerves. ( we wondered later, if we should have joined him with the hashish or sish pipes but thought at least the passengers, should be sober, to scream on the return trip)

The boys were bemused to find two women travelling. Where were our children, our husbands?

They were affable and great fun

By the time we turned to the dunes, they had given us their business cards and invited us to visit.

We learnt:

They were not only friends, but worked in the fashion industry as manufacturers.

They were on a working holiday in Dubai setting up outlets

One was married and another would make his selection of wife within six months

Bangladesh had no open roads such as the one on which we travelled and was much cooler

The Stig has nothing on the Mohamed he swept across the dunes at breakneck speed. We rose and fell and tilted alarmingly on the dunes. We'd perch precariously before expecting to free fall. Constantly he manoeuvred for maximum discomfort and fear all the while texting and calling on his cell phone.

Tick yes to the following - alarmed, scared, exhilarated, -

And while we screamed in terror, Mohamed remained silent, unperturbed, detached.

One of our new found friends was absolutely terrified - and screamed for it to stop.

Then we slid within inches of another vehicle and stopped to render assistance to a 4wheel drive which had broken down. Men gathered, and we were privileged to watch a secret men's ritual performed with compressors and ceremony. Meanwhile we recovered in the 40 plus heat of the desert where no Shade can be found and our boys played in the sand.

And then we were off. Thank god for the roll bar, I had thought it had only one purpose - survival in case of rolling - but we all hung onto it, as we felt we were being tossed by a roller coaster and this was our last day. And then we saw bitumen, relief until it was crossed and we plunged into the sand once more. Mohammed was from Syria and not the person to photograph, unless surreptitiously. We decided he not only had a shady past but a dubious present.

And then .... The Beduins, Camels, hashish and belly dancing.