Camel-Kaze: Dromedaries in Australia
By Jane Wooldridge
STUART'S WELL, Australia - Let's get this out of the way right now: Camels do not stink. They don't spit either - at least not the ones I know. And I know a few . . . almost a dozen of 'em, in fact. Spent three days with them - three close-contact days - in Australia's Outback.
Yes, yes; they have camels in Australia. Dromedaries; that's one-humpers. (Haven't you seen those wacky "Where the Bloody Hell Are You?" ads with the camel caravan on the beach, urging visitors to vacation in Australia?)
No, camels aren't indigenous to Oz. But they aren't Joeys come lately, either, having been brought here during 19th century explorations because this is mostly a desert, and camels are - you know - the ships of the desert. Their dinner-plate feet handle sand well, and they don't need much water.
In these days of locomotives, Cessnas and tractor-trailer roadtrains stretching 3,000 feet, camels can't compete in the transport business, though some 400,000-700,000 survive, depending on who's counting.
But they make one heck of a tourist ride. So here we are, nine intrepid camel trekkers ages 7 to 50-plus, plus our camel driver, setting off on a three-day journey into Australia's Red Centre.
We've signed on with Camels Australia, a farm about an hour south of Alice Springs on the road to Ulura, the massive rock hump formerly called Ayer's Rock that is the icon of Australia. The farm takes casual visitors on half-hour rides around the yard and provides a sandwich break and bathroom stop for bus and car passengers. While visitors are stretching their legs, they can check out camel relatives - including llamas and alpacas - and Outback creatures recuperating from injuries, such as kangaroos and emus. The farm's dingo is purely a pet.
But for us, there'll be no namby-pamby walk on a tether. We're here for a serious excursion.
LEARNING TO DRIVE Neil Waters, camel driver, guide and farm owner with wife Jayne, gives us the intro spiel. Man looks his part: Wispy beard to his elbows, Coke-bottle glasses, a classic Crocodile Dundee hat and jeans that have seen plenty of dust. He's been driving camels for 25 years, give or take, and has 70 of his own.
Driving a camel is somewhat like riding a horse, he explains, except the camel is bigger, slower and less likely to spook. And we shouldn't try to grip them with our legs. Just hang loose, he advises.
On these well-trained animals, riding requires little finesse. Each camel is fitted with a metal rack - fashioned by Waters himself - that holds a leather saddle allowing us to ride comfortably behind the hump. The camel's nose cartilage has been pierced with a stud; from this hangs a rope that will be our steering mechanism. Pull to the left for left, right for right. And in case the camel isn't paying attention, the saddle is equipped with an "accelerator," a length of rubber garden hose with rope as a handle that can be used to prod him along.
The hard part is getting up and down. That goes both for the camel and for you.
Hoosh! and the camel folds his lanky legs onto the sand, where thick pads protect his knees from roughness and heat. You clamber easily aboard. Up! and the camel unfolds those long stretches of bone and sinew, and you wobble forward and back as he rises to his full statuesque height, which can measure as much as 10 amazingly tall feet to the shoulder. Move on! is designed to speed up the pace. Stop! is the command for the obvious.
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