Susan Buckland: Leaving Alice with Abdul

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ABDUL THE camel took one look at me and seemed to grunt. It was a deflating moment for us both. Especially as he was the first camel to meet me. I suppose that for Abdul, who looked down at me with an "up yours" expression, I seemed to be just another pesky tourist wanting a ride into the sunset.

"Look here, Abdul mate. You and I have to bond for the next few hours," I tried telling this animal with his impossible hump that somehow I was going to have to climb on. The appeal produced a show of huge yellow teeth that made Abdul look maniacal.

"Please put your teeth back behind your lips," I asked this disdainful-looking desert animal. I tried flattery.

I knew about his ancestors, I told him. How back in the 19th century they had travelled with their Afghan drivers to Australia to carry vital supplies to isolated pioneer settlements and missions. And what a tremendous job they had done in those days before the railway and motorcars.

When no longer needed, the camels were released into the desert and thrived. More than half a million wild camels now roam the desert and I have spotted herds along the original route from Alice Springs to Adelaide.

Abdul, I presumed, was a tamer town cousin, schooled in the art of taking people for rides out of Alice. When the man in charge held his reins and commanded him to kneel, he sank with a resigned look. I climbed on to the saddle and held my breath as he lifted me to a great height. "Have no fear," said Abdul's keeper. "Lean back and go with the flow. You are sitting on the Harley Davidson of the animal world."

Abdul was then hitched to Phoenix who was hitched to Horace who was hitched to George, the leader of our camel train. And off we set along the Todd, the mostly dry riverbed running through town.

The camels walked at a leisurely pace and, as I eased into Abdul's gait, I began to notice the scenery: gums with huge, twisting trunks, flocks of pink and white parrots, sand dunes the colour of a ripening tomato.

The clop of the camels was too soft to scare away the wildlife. Abdul held his course, his teeth were out of sight and I began to find him almost endearing.

Nevertheless I would not be whispering "Hutt, hutt", the command for "trot", in Abdul's ear. Camels can run at more than 40km/h when they get the wind up.

When we finally clopped to a halt at the camel farm, George was first to relieve himself. That triggered a train reaction as Abdul and the other camels peed steadily on the spot. Camels are consummate water drinkers and they can manage to down 200 litres at a time and do without water for another six weeks.

I gave Abdul the command to sit: "hoosh" and he responded with enthusiasm.

We were advised to dismount to the left side, swinging the right leg in front to avoid knocking the aloof expression off the camel immediately behind.

As I swung my leg, a ripping sound rented the air. The back seam of my trousers had surrendered to the strain. Wrenching my shirt down over the damage I thanked Abdul for the ride. He exposed those teeth again. If I'd had a few beers I would have sworn he was smiling.