My diving holiday in Sharm El-Sheikh was already shaping up to be unforgettable. Days were spent exploring coral reefs in the Red Sea, drifting above vibrant marine life in warm, crystal-clear water. Yet one of the most memorable experiences of the entire trip took place far from the ocean, on land, under the vast desert sky — a camel ride along the coast to Dahab.
Sharm El-Sheikh is often associated with luxury resorts, dive boats, and turquoise waters, but beyond the shoreline lies a completely different world. Rugged mountains rise abruptly from the desert, their colours shifting from ochre to deep red as the sun moves across the sky. It was into this ancient landscape that I ventured, trading wetsuits and fins for sand, silence, and the slow rhythm of camels.
Leaving the Resort Behind
The day began early, before the heat had fully settled in. Leaving the resort felt like stepping out of a bubble. The manicured gardens and infinity pools were quickly replaced by open desert, rocky plains, and a sense of vastness that is hard to describe unless you experience it for yourself.
Our small group met our Bedouin guides near the coastline. The camels were already kneeling in the sand, calm and patient, their long eyelashes and weathered expressions giving them an almost philosophical presence. I had never ridden a camel before, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly apprehensive.
Mounting a camel is an experience in itself. As the animal rises — back legs first, then front — you are pitched forward and backward in a motion that feels both awkward and exhilarating. For a moment, it feels as though you might be thrown off, but once the camel stands fully upright, a surprising sense of stability sets in. You are suddenly much higher off the ground than expected, with a commanding view of the desert stretching ahead.
The Rhythm of the Desert
As we set off, the camels moved with a slow, swaying gait that quickly became hypnotic. Each step felt deliberate, unhurried, as though time itself had slowed to match their pace. The sound of soft footsteps on sand, the occasional snort or low grunt from the camels, and the gentle jingle of harnesses created a rhythm that replaced the constant hum of modern life.
Riding along the coastline, the contrast between desert and sea was striking. To one side, the Red Sea shimmered in shades of blue and turquoise, its calm surface hiding the vibrant reefs I had spent the previous days exploring. On the other side, the desert stretched endlessly, broken only by distant mountains and the occasional cluster of scrub.
It struck me how different this experience was from diving, yet how connected the two felt. Beneath the sea, I had moved slowly, conserving energy, observing rather than rushing. On the camel, the same principle applied. This was not about speed or destination; it was about the journey itself.
Reflections Along the Way
As the ride continued, conversation faded naturally. There was no need to fill the silence. The desert has a way of encouraging introspection, of turning your attention inward. With nothing demanding immediate focus, thoughts began to drift.
I reflected on the days spent diving — the weightlessness, the sense of being a guest in an underwater world — and how this camel ride offered a similar humility. In the desert, humans are once again visitors, reliant on knowledge passed down through generations to survive and navigate the landscape.
The Bedouin guides moved effortlessly through this environment. Their connection to the land was evident not just in their skill, but in their calm confidence. They spoke of routes used for centuries, of trade, travel, and survival in a place that appears harsh to outsiders but is deeply familiar to those who know it well.
Approaching Dahab
As we made our way toward Dahab, the scenery subtly changed. The coastline curved gently, and the desert mountains seemed to draw closer. Dahab itself has a very different character from Sharm El-Sheikh. Where Sharm is polished and resort-focused, Dahab feels more relaxed, bohemian, and rooted in its surroundings.
Arriving by camel felt especially meaningful. Long before cars and tour buses, this is how people would have approached towns like Dahab — slowly, deliberately, aware of every mile travelled. Experiencing even a small part of that journey gave me a newfound appreciation for distance and effort in a world where travel is usually instantaneous.
Dismounting the camel was another careful process, involving the animal kneeling and lowering itself in stages. My legs felt stiff, and I was acutely aware of muscles I hadn’t used in quite that way before. Yet there was also a sense of achievement, as though I had earned my arrival rather than simply arrived.
A Pause in Time
We stopped to rest, sharing tea and simple food. Sitting on cushions in the shade, looking out at the sea, I felt completely present in the moment. The pace of the camel ride had recalibrated my internal clock. There was no urge to check the time, no schedule pressing in.
This pause allowed space to absorb the experience fully. The desert breeze carried the scent of salt and sand, and the sounds of Dahab were gentle rather than overwhelming. It felt like a place that invites you to stay a while, to slow down, to breathe.
The Return Journey
The ride back followed a similar route, yet it felt different. The afternoon light transformed the landscape, casting long shadows and warming the colours of the sand and rock. The camels seemed even more at ease, moving steadily as if guided by instinct rather than direction.
Fatigue set in, but it was the satisfying kind — the result of immersion rather than exertion. The gentle motion of the camel made it easy to slip into a meditative state, half-aware of the surroundings, half-lost in thought.
As Sharm El-Sheikh came back into view, the resorts reappearing on the horizon, I felt a quiet sense of gratitude. The camel ride had added a depth to my holiday that I hadn’t anticipated. It complemented the diving perfectly, offering balance between sea and land, activity and stillness.
Final Reflections
Looking back, the camel ride to Dahab stands out as one of the most meaningful experiences of my time in Egypt. It was not the most dramatic or adrenaline-filled activity, but it was deeply grounding. In a single journey, it connected me to the landscape, the culture, and a slower way of moving through the world.
While diving had shown me the hidden beauty beneath the surface of the Red Sea, the camel ride revealed the quiet power of the desert above it. Together, they formed a complete picture of the region — one defined not just by what you see, but by how you experience it.
In a world that often values speed and efficiency, travelling by camel along the coast to Dahab was a reminder that sometimes the most memorable journeys are the slowest ones.
