Editor's Note: This story was written circa 2000.  Prices and some details have no doubt changed.  If you have more recent experiences you'd like to share, please post them to the comment blog below.

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INDIA - The turbaned guide smiled behind his thin black mustache as I spread my legs wider than I'd thought was possible. Without warning, I lurched forward toward the ground, then rose several feet into the air as my full-grown camel stood up, snorting his oversized nostrils and batting his long eyelashes. The imposing Jaisalmer fortress receded into the distance behind us as we shuffled into the shimmering horizon, carried along by loping spongy feet.

This was the beginning of our three day, two night mini-safari into the Thar Desert of India, in the dry northwestern state of Rajasthan.

For our butts' sake, we decided to pass up the opportunity of seeing more sights by taking a longer trek deeper into the desert. We didn't regret it. Any comparison to horse riding is faulty, especially when an obstinate camel decides to take off running, leaving you bouncing along on top his hard back, a sensation roughly akin to repeatedly landing on a broad tree trunk.

Five of us departed Jaisalmer together: Mandy and Marie from Ireland, Sarah from Seattle, myself, and my wife Donna--five very white faces guided by two local men and their boy helper. Covered by long pants and shirts, hats or turbans, and plenty of sunscreen, we rode for several hours in the morning before taking a long lunch break. The guides would then remove the saddles and packs from the animals and hobble them with short ropes around their ankles: they could walk around and graze, but not run off into the distance.

The first day's lunch was standard Indian fare: vegetable curry, chapatis (flat bread), and hot tea prepared over a wood fire, followed by some fresh bananas. After eating we rested in a small patch of shade, waiting for the intense midday heat to ease up. In the late afternoon we set off again, passing farmers, herds of goats and camels, and small settlements of stacked stone or baked mud huts. I reflected on what a quiet, solitary life it must be out there, away from even the basic diversions of an Indian village.

The camels generally knew the way, so we had plenty of time to think as we moved through the countryside, our chattering dying down as the pain to our backsides increased. It was easy to soak up the warmth and get lost in the scenery as we padded along, the only sound being the tinkling bells around the necks of our camels.

A Helping Hand
After going for miles without seeing another soul, we came upon a group of young men standing around an old brown jeep. They shouted with elation when we came over. "Please lift jeep," one of the guides requested. They had a flat tire and were ready with a spare, but no jack. Five of us lifted the vehicle up and held it there, groaning, while a boy shoved stones underneath for support.

An hour later, we stopped to set up camp for the evening, but were chased off after a heated argument between our guides and a man who appeared from behind a nearby dune. Apparently he was a farmer; he claimed that this barren patch of wilderness was his land. So, we rode to a different site. The boy guide took care of the camels while the older men readied a fire and went to work on dinner.

We watched the fiery red sun go down over the flat horizon as we had another meal, exactly like the first except for the addition of rice. We talked about our travels--each of us in the midst of different itineraries--and our impressions of India. In this country, every traveler has a few colorful stories to tell, even if they just arrived two days ago. We soon lay down to sleep in the open night air, seeing more stars than anyone ever does in the presence of electricity.

We awoke at dawn and watched the sun arise on the opposite horizon as we rolled up our sleeping bags. When the saddles were strapped back on, the animals complained loudly with a jarring noise that reminded us of Chewbacca from Star Wars.

After a night of rest, our inner thighs were also complaining (though less audibly), but we had to grin and bear it as we navigated through new hills and ravines. We stopped at a lush oasis so the camels could drink. While the others let us dismount first, Donna's camel headed straight for the water, leaving her sitting on top in the middle of a pond.

The rest of us lay in the grass and I watched my camel's strange eating habit: a grass cud stored away earlier would visibly travel three feet up his throat to his mouth, where he then chewed slowly, his jaw moving horizontally like some grinding mechanism in a mill.

An hour later we stopped at a small stone hut for lunch, drinking warm "Thums-Up" and "Citra" sodas, not aware that the crafty proprietor expected us to pay more than double the normal price for them. As we departed three hours later, we were still haggling with him. He got on his rickety bike and followed us all the way to our campsite (a two-hour ride), exasperated that these "rich tourists" refused to readily hand over their cash. Eventually he accepted overcharging us only 50% and sulked back home, hoping the next batch of visitors would be fresh off the plane from home.

The Thar desert is semi-arid; there are no endless stretches of shifting dunes devoid of life. Our second night's camp gave us a close taste, however. Golden-brown dunes, rippled from the desert breezes, surrounded us at our final stopping point. We set out exploring the topography, climbing the dunes and sliding down the other sides.

A few other travelers had set up camp nearby. We met a lone Japanese university student who was collecting sand in tiny glass bottles. "These are gifts for my friends at home," he explained, "a piece of the desert for them!"

We ate the now-familiar meal of curry and chapatis, relishing the packets of cookies I had saved for two days. We listened to the fire crackle and watched the landscape's light patterns change in the sunset. Venus and Jupiter appeared in the pale sky before millions of stars spread out above us. We rolled out our sleeping bags and talked, devising ways to barricade ourselves against the big black beetles occasionally scurrying past.

At dawn, we arose to the smell of spicy Indian tea and devoured some toast with jam, despite the sandy texture. We packed and said good-bye to our camels, tipped our guides, and boarded a jeep back to the guesthouse. It took us less than an hour to cover the distance we had crossed in the past two days, with ruins and villages zipping by us at late 20th century speed instead of history's speed.

Jaisalmer seemed positively bustling after our journey, despite the Arabian Nights atmosphere of centuries-old stone ramparts, wagons drawn by camels, and robed men wearing bright turbans and curled pointy shoes. We took a soapy cold shower, threw on some clean clothes, then sat down to a big meal. For me it was a very "western" lunch of macaroni and cheese with tomatoes--I couldn't face another chapati for days.

What you need to know to go on your own Indian Camel Safari
If money is not a big issue, you can book a trip like this with an adventure travel company here in the states. They'll take care of virtually everything, furnishing you with 1st-class train tickets and reservations at the best hotel in Jaisalmer. However, if you're even mildly adventurous and willing to wing it locally after arrival, you can do it all yourself for less than a third of the price.

Once you arrive in India, you'll be staggered by how cheap everything is. This is a land full of cultural and historic riches, but a great number of the people are truly poor. The average worker earns less than $300 per year. What you'd spend on one restaurant meal in the US could easily feed you for a week in India. If you spend more than $20 in one day here, it'll be a day of living lavishly. Consequently, if you deal in local terms, you'll save a small fortune.

Our camel safari was $21 each for three days (when this article was written in 1998), which included meals, bottled water, and the jeep ride home! This was pretty average: some agents offered cheaper deals but put two people on each camel. Others charge more and offer tents (not really necessary) and more varied meals (which would have been nice).

If you avoid the pampering hotels in Jaisalmer and stay where the backpackers are, you'll be hard-pressed to spend over $5 per night. Our room with private bath and a great view was one dollar (not a misprint) per night!

It's best to plan a camel safari through your guesthouse owners if possible: they'll store your luggage while you're away and you've got somebody to complain to when you return if anything promised was not delivered.

There is an airport in Jaisalmer, but most people arrive on the overnight train from Jaipur or Jodhpur. A second-class sleeper will set you back two to four dollars, with a first-class air-conditioned compartment being about $10.

For Information on India in General:

• Government of India Tourist Office (New York) 212-586-4901
• Government of India Tourist Office (Los Angeles) 213-380-8855
• Government of India Tourist Office (Toronto)416-962-3787

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Tim Leffel is a writer and compulsive traveler who recently completed a year-long journey around the world. To support his habit, he sometimes teaches English abroad. When grounded, he resides in Hoboken, NJ, gazing out at the Manhattan skyline