Wadi Rum. The first time I’d become aware of it (and the moment I fell in love with camels) is when Lucy and I watched Lawrence of Arabia, specially projected on a huge screen many years ago. It’s the desert world of T.E. Lawrence both in history and in the cinematic depiction. It’s the red sands of our planetary neighbor in Matt Damon’s “The Martian”. It’s the spiritual center of Jedha in “Rogue One”, and a location in the upcoming “Rise of Skywalker”. It’s the classic alien desert landscape.

I could not have been more excited about spending several days in this beautifully desolate world. And I could not have been more disappointed on my arrival. But this isn’t a fault of Wadi Rum, it’s a fault of my own expectations, and my own unreasonable desire for a personal experience.

First things first – it’s astoundingly beautiful. Red sands march on in all directions, crashing into heaving black rocks. Clearly, as it’s movie legacy indicates, it is an ideal notion of the strange desert wild. It’s romantic and it’s beautiful. But it’s also absolutely covered in camps and Jeep tracks. Nearly anywhere you are, nearly any way you point your head there’s a Bedouin camp, or a cluster of geodesic domes (erected, apparently, in response to the popularity of “The Martian”). It was instantly defeating. It was heartbreaking.

An Airbnb host recommended the place – it was a good price, and it included a 4wd tour of the sights, and an hour camel ride. He insisted that camels are painful to ride and that it would be enough. We thought it made sense, and having spent several days under the sun, we thought maybe keeping it neat and short would really be the best idea.

We got to the camp in the late afternoon, and were quickly ushered to the camels… I enjoyed the camels.. I love camels. They’re seriously remarkable beasts, keenly adapted in highly specialized ways to their harsh environment. The camels weren’t an issue. A half hour later, our camel train makes it to “sunset rock”, with several dozen other tourists from other camps.

At this point I realized… this is like any other tour I’ve been on. All these operators doing the same things, going to the same spots. Where was my unique, personal experience with this place? Had I given it up for a cheap, crowd-pleasing fun ride through the desert? We had originally planned on some multi-night camel trek into the deep desert – had we blown it?

Eventually I realized the problem is me. Lucy and I talk about this thing – how everyone is hungry for the “real” experience. Everyone wants something raw. Everyone wants to be one of the first and the few – everyone wants to find the lost city of gold and then take a selfie in front of it.

I can’t be angry at the locals who are using what resources they have to make a living. If I asked to keep it pristine, free from Jeep tracks, then what good would it do anyone? And if I asked for that, wouldn’t I be implying that I be an exception that gets to see it in it’s untouched state?

It’s a complicated set of feelings. I relented. I had a nice time in the park’s beauty, in its skies, in its sun, in it’s wide field of stars. As a mortal, I got what I got, and I got what I deserved. If I wanted to experience discovery like some kind of archaeologist, then I need to go back to school and be an archaeologist. Short of that, I’m a tourist, and I’m lucky to see some of the most beautiful places in the world.

So we enjoyed dinner with a few new friends, we enjoyed our “Bedouin tent” with it’s shower and toilet. We enjoyed the sand, and the camels and the stories and each other. We enjoyed the smoke of the small fire and the rich Bedouin tea with its local wild sage, and we enjoyed the moment.

After dinner, we walked out into the darkness beyond the camps lights with our new camp friends, and we laid silently on the sand, staring up at the bright stars above. Lucy and I dug our fingers beneath the cool sand on the surface, and found warmth stored just inches below the surface. We hunted for shooting stars and I slipped in and out of sleep, and I was peaceful and happy to be there.

The short Jeep tour the next day came with acceptance and enjoyment. I made the driver laugh by posing for pictures the way the young Japanese girls do. I chuckled with a young man asking how he kept his thobe so white (I’ve asked around, the answer is: carefully). We happily lost haggling sessions for Bedouin tea, myrrh scented fragrance and tchotchkes.

Leaving the park the next day we saw two things that now kind of make a certain sense in all of this. First was the two beautiful camels we saw eating out of the trash (full disclosure, I think they were using the dumpsters for fodder).

Second… as we’re leaving the park, we become aware of a coal belching steam locomotive coming our way in the track parallel to the highway. As we come to within a hundred yards of it, we see suddenly an army of riders on horses, barreling down a blind canyon in a tempest of dust.. then, as the riders come close to intercepting the train, fireworks explode overhead… it seems a local company is staging an Arab Rebellion sacking of an Ottoman-Turk locomotive, ala Lawrence of Arabia. We happened to be in the right place at the right time for their soft opening.