How Did It Feel When...the "Desert" Welcomed You In?

The desert. My beloved Sahara. It has captured my heart forever. But so has the sea. I was once told that the sea is just as much a desert as the Sahara. While not true in the literal or scientific sense, my friend meant it metaphorically. They are both harsh and wonderful, beautiful and deadly, and you have to give your entire self to them if you want to survive their awesome, untamed power.

The desert and the sea. Two extremes. Hot and oppressive, cold and dark, wonderous and enchanting. They have called out to men throughout human history, creating flourishing empires in some cases and laying waste to invading armies in others.

They have been good to me, welcomed me in, and given me a fresh, unique outlook on life. At least, that is, for now.

"I Miss the Desert"

I never expected to fall in love with the desert. I first glimpsed my beloved Sahara when I was in the military. It was hot, unknown, simple, complex, full of wonderful people and dangerous threats. It was as though all of the extremes in life were combined into one beautiful place. I've been in a number of deserts in the intervening years, and while none of them have touched me like the Sahara, they all have similar auras about them.

When I think back on staring off into the desert, whether it be from the top of a rocky hill, from an ancient watchtower, or from the back of some ambling camel, my mind races with all the possibilities that are before me. The desert is a vast, blank, golden canvas people have traversed, called home, and fought in for all of human history. When looking out across the barren landscape, I see all of those possibilities, both of the past and in the future, unfolding before me. It is both beautiful and terrifying, and it calls to me and pulls me in with every passing second.

Life in the desert heightens the meaning in life in every way. Water is not wasted, energy in conserved, and every organism plays a vital role in maintaining balance in the harsh ecosystem. The empty spaces, seemingly devoid of life, are virtually ungoverned, and you must both enjoy the freedom and be cautious of those calling it their domain.

Just as there are no atheists in foxholes, the desert brings a level of spirituality that I cannot begin to describe. How could such a beautiful, inhospitable place exist if not for some greater being? The people of the desert have beliefs and traditions that go back farther than anyone can remember, and they are just as strong today as they were when they were adopted.

"I Miss the Sea"

The sea is the same, yet different at the same time. I will never forget the two times in the sea that scared me. Neither of them were encounters with sharks or diving emergencies. Both were staring off into the vast expanse of water that goes on forever in every direction.

In Tunisia, in shallow depths that went on for kilometers, the clear waters allowed me, and anything else, to see as far as the naked eye was able. Anything could sneak up on me, and keeping track of where you were in relation to the shore was impossible. It was just me, the sea, and whatever called it home.

In Aqaba, 30 meters below the surface, the reef dropped below where I could see. I found myself able to see nothing but deep blue in every direction. No boats, no pipes, no ground. It was wonderfully disorienting...and simultaneously terrifying. Unlike in Tunisia, there was no quick surface to orient yourself to the shore.

The sea is two worlds in one. On the surface, there is the human element. Shipping, sailing, conservationism, even most naval warfare, it all takes place on the surface. In every direction, the deep blue sea gives way to the lighter blue sky on the best of days and the darkest grey storms on the worst. All you have is on your ship, water, food, fuel, and everyday is a delicate balance between being one with the sea and fighting against it. Like an intricate tango you are both intertwined and at a distance, in love but at odds.

Beneath the surface, a 3D world totally foreign to our own flourishes. As the Bond villain Stromburg said, "There is beauty, there is ugliness, and there is death." In the wreckage of fallen warships from above, new life flourishes. Climate change isn't political, with each side hurling accusations and their own wild solutions, but a reality of the ecosystem. There are extreme pressures, and decisions about oxygen, energy, and food are deliberately made by humans and aquatic life alike.

It is no wonder why the sailors life, lover, and lady is the sea, and why Brandy's life on land seems so foreign and inhospitable when compared with that beautiful, harsh blue expanse called the ocean.

"And I Miss Waking Up Every Morning Wondering What Wonderful Adventure the New Day will Bring to Us"

Life in the world's deserts, be they on land or at sea, bring adventure everyday. Will the tides shift and reveal some ancient mystery concealed for hundreds of years, or will they swallow entire civilisations whole, only to be seen again when the tides allow it?

When you experience these areas, you come to understand just how involved you have to be simply to survive in them, let alone thrive. You cannot be passive as you can be in the city or so-called civilised world. No GPS can get you across the Sahara; the stars are your guide. Notions of North, South, East, and West are near impossible to distinguish beneath the water without the sun's path to guide you; the currents marine life show you the way.

It is no wonder why some of the greatest adventure stories take place in such inhospitable places. From Treasure Island to Indiana Jones, Arabian Nights to Whale Wars, we yearn for the adventure of man vs nature, and for man to come out ahead, although that is not always reality.

My favourite stories happen in these deserted places. Being face-to-face with terrorists in the Sahara, meeting lifelong friends under the waves, running out of drinkable water, watching sharks feed, and having some of my most profound thoughts, they have all happened when immersed the vast expanses of endless possibilities called the desert and the sea. They are the only places where I have felt truly alive, despite the harsh realities of the environment.

A wise man and friend once told me, when we were talking about how much we missed being "over there," "Sir, part of you never comes back. You leave part of yourself over there." That is surely true. Will the tides change? Will the sands of the Sahara bury me, the ocean swells drag me down, like so many before? I guess only time will tell.

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"I miss the desert. I miss the sea. And I Miss Waking Up Every Morning Wondering What Wonderful Adventure the New Day will Bring to Us." -- Sallah, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

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