Sands Through the Hourglass, Gone but not Forgotten
It was hot … bloody hot! … yet here we were in the middle of the 'high dune' country, in the south of the United Arab Emirates (UAE), on the edge of Saudi Arabia's 'Empty Quarter'. We were drilling site investigation holes down to 20m or 30m depth and logging the soil recovered, all fine sand, silty fine sand, fine sand with silt, etc, etc (you get the idea?). These sands were aeolian (wind blown) in origin, often ‘loose’ on the surface, then ‘medium dense becoming dense’, then ‘dense to very dense’ with depth. No rock within 'cooee' and no groundwater either, unless you brought in the big rigs and drilled down for it.
The year was 1977 and we were to visit the wellhead camps of Bab, Asab and Sahil, to investigate the proposed sites of various flare stack towers and associated plant and equipment facilities, but they didn't tell us that we were to be in the middle of ... well, absolutely nowhere.
We drove in convoy, our two Pilcon Wayfarer cable percussion rigs each towed by a classic Land Rover, plus another support vehicle in the group for good measure. No 'air con' in those days (except for open windows). Such luxury items were reserved for the then super expensive Range Rover, driven by the occasional Emirates 'nouveau riche' oil sheik, or by the oil company executives (from the Abu Dhabi National Oil Company) who were funding our project. The now common Toyota Landcruiser had (back then) only just recently made its first ugly Mark 1 appearance on the market.
Once off the bitumen, we drove along deep tracks in the dunes formed by supply trucks (Macs and Kenilworths) which reportedly trundled across this part of the desert every so often (although we didn't see any during our contract). We checked into the radio shack at one camp, before leaving on the several hours drive to the next camp, where we checked in again to record our successful arrival. No GPS, mobile phones or even two-way radio coverage in those days. If we got lost or went missing in one of the frequent sand storms, we were primed to stay put and wait. After a few hours without contact at either end, it was 'usual' practice (or that's what we were told) for our masters to send out a search party from each end to try and find us (after the sand storm had blown itself out). Luckily we didn't 'come a cropper' on any of our inter-camp trips during the several weeks duration of our typical project field work, and never had to try out the success (or otherwise) of this pre OH&S and pre Safe Work Method Statement, arguably Mickey Mouse, 'if all else fails', procedure.
I still remember clearly arriving at Asab Camp, which was literally an oasis in the desert. Here the oil workers were choppered in and out (no loose sand tracks across the Woop Woop for these guys). The accommodation, although in 'Portacom' prefabricated units, was like 'glamping', and there were at least two swimming pools (but not for us subcontractors and consultants), and an impressive mess hall, where we compensated for the heat of the day, each evening, with a few cool ales (no dry camps in those days).
No sand tyres either. Our 'modus operandi' in loose sand terrain was to let half the air out of our tyres.
But we were all in our early twenties, happy as Larry with the 'joys' of batchelor life, 'bullet-proof', and craving adventure. We took each day as it came and each beer too.
The world was much bigger in those days, schedules more rubbery, and, when the chips were down we either had to talk our way out of trouble or get down and dirty and fix things there and then. No back-up, no calls back to base for instructions, and no Plan 'B's.
And then there was the beauty of the sand dunes, each morning as the sun rose, and even more so each evening, as it made its hard earned descent below the shimmering desert horizon. That's when the dunes came alive in a kaleidoscope of colour for a few brief minutes, before the stars popped out to punctuate the cool night sky.
Time passed slowly, like sand through the hour glass.
We were also a lot thinner then and still had the abundant locks of the young to help ward off sunstroke. For we had yet to sample the joys of overindulgence that come with being overly content with our lot, accompanied by the loss of drive that keep's the innocent and ambitious moving forward to explore what lies beyond the next horizon. Back then we still awoke to the anticipation that each new day's dawn brought to our enquiring minds.
For we were totally and absolutely bullet-proof.
Photos: by Ken Boddie.
(The original images were all developed as slides, back in the day before digital photography, but, thanks to the purchase, a few years back, of a Wolverine F2D Mighty Film to Digital Converter, my old boxes of slides are now experiencing a new lease of life).
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This ‘ancient parable’, originally chiselled in stone tablets, was first published on beBee.com in 2017. The old platform post, however, has suffered from some missing photos and comments, a casualty of recent upgrades to improve the blogging portion of what is undoubtedly a greatly improved beBee platform. I was therefore easily prompted to republish this tale of sand, sweat and silliness, following a recent comment received from my Emirates-based friend @🐝 Fatima G. Williams who wrote, requesting more historical desert tales, in my post compairing cultures here:
https://au.bebee.com/producer/east-or-west-what-s-Msajzhdii2vS
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When not researching the weird or the wonderful, the comical or the cultured, the sinful or the serious, I chase my creative side, the results of which can be seen as selected photographs of my travels on my website at:
https://ken-boddie.squarespace.com
The author of the above, Ken Boddie, besides being a sometime poet and occasional writer, is an enthusiastic photographer, rarely leisure-travelling without his Canon, and loves to interact with other like-minded people with diverse interests.
Ken's three day work week (part time commitment) as a consulting engineer allows him to follow his photography interests, and to plan trips to an ever increasing list of countries and places of scenic beauty and cultural diversity.
Travelin Café beBee and in 2 more groups
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Comments
Pascal Derrien
1 year ago #19
Yet still very impressive :-)
Greg Rolfe
1 year ago #18
While life might be wasted on the young, we still managed to enjoy it! And perhaps that was the point. Have an amazing day!!
Ken Boddie
1 year ago #17
#17 #16
Glad you both enjoyed this one, @Pascal Derrien and @Greg Rolfe I didn’t take many photos back in those days, pre-digital, as success was much more hit and miss. I have vivid memories of so many things from my London based trips to the Middle East in the 1970s and 1980s but can’t share them pictorially, as I was more focused on exploring new places and having a good time than writing or pic shooting. All goes to prove that life is wasted on the young. 🤔
Pascal Derrien
1 year ago #16
Stunning shots and what a story
Greg Rolfe
1 year ago #15
Thank you for reposting Ken!!
🐝 Fatima G. Williams
1 year ago #14
Love it @Ken Boddie 😄
Ken Boddie
1 year ago #13
The main difference between now and back then, @Lada 🏡 Prkic , is what @Ian Weinberg alluded to in #1 below. The mirror didn’t lie, back in the day, but, these days, I’m still trying to find the mirror of truth. 🤣
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Where’s that young guy, thin and tall?
Too much grey hair overall,
Eyesight’s going, deaf and all.
Never mind, when all is done,
Life has really been good fun,
Were I to rerun my fling,
Wouldn’t change one little thing.
🤗
Lada 🏡 Prkic
1 year ago #12
I remember this old post and just looked for it in your blog, Ken. Like @🐝 Fatima G. Williams, I sometimes read the old posts and comments to reminisce about the good old beBee days. The actual conversation happened and still does in comment boxes. Sadly, many valuable comments from those days are missing.
Your post reminded me of my days back in Iraq. When you are in your early twenties, everything looks different. :)
Ken Boddie
1 year ago #11
Thanks, @Robert Cormack Probably a case of the picture is mightier than the pen.
Robert Cormack
1 year ago #10
Good piece, Ken. The pictures help.
Ken Boddie
1 year ago #9
Ah well, @Paul Walters , it must come from years of standing behind that infamous bulletproof Irishman,
Rick O'Shea.
Ken Boddie
1 year ago #8
This was all before they built Memory Lane, @🐝 Fatima G. Williams 🤣😂🤣
Ken Boddie
1 year ago #7
For we were young, @Franci 🐝Eugenia Hoffman , and sure to have our way.
Mary Hopkins nailed it with,
"Oh, my friend, we're older but no wiser,
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same."
Ken Boddie
1 year ago #6
I’ll know who to call, @Jerry Fletcher , when I need to pull out the ‘big guns’. 😂🤣😂
Ken Boddie
1 year ago #5
Grey hair is, of course, hereditary, @Ian Weinberg You get it from your children. 🤣
Paul Walters
1 year ago #4
You are still bulletproof you old devil
🐝 Fatima G. Williams
1 year ago #3
Wow! this is absolutely a fantastic walk down your memory lane @Ken Boddie is the handsome fellow on the right single 🤣 how the place you visited has changed over 50 years is remarkable! Thank you for sharing your flash back with us. I always love driving through the dunes and camping over night during the Nov and Dec. Great photos.
Jerry Fletcher
1 year ago #2
Ah to be young! Your story made me think of the time I spent as a young Artillery Battery Commander in South Korea. We, too, thought we would never die. I never thought I'd be reliving that memory so many years later.
Ian Weinberg
1 year ago #1
Once were warriors O'Ken. Still trying to work out who that grey-haired old fart is staring at me from the bathroom mirror every morning …