Riding a camel had long been on my Life List, so when we reached the famed Khongor Sand Dunes in southern Mongolia and discovered that we would get ride camels to and on the Dunes, I was elated.

The Dunes themselves were a sight to behold as we drive through the tundra. At over 300 feet tall, we spotted them from miles and miles away.

Even further beyond the Dunes, we could also see the Altai Mountains. The juxtaposition of gray, sky-high mountains, tan sand dunes and brown flatlands was unreal. As Laura described it, “It looks like someone seriously fucked up a movie set!  Its like Sahara meets Into Thin Air.”

Regardless, the contrast was stunning.

Unfortunately, the next morning, when we saddled up and rode to the Dunes, was the coldest morning of the entire trip.

A violent and relentless wind thrashed over the steppe and our position, perched atop camels, did anything but offer shelter. The first five minutes were tolerable.

What started for me as a morning of excitement, getting to do something for the first time, quickly turned into a war with my will-power to not cry.

I’d long thought that I suffered from poor circulation as my hands and feet can get abnormally cold at the drop of a hat. Today was a blaring reminder.

As the wind stung our faces and threatened to unseat us from our camels, all I could do was look down at my hands and feet.

Look down to make sure that my feet were still in the stirrups and that my hands were, in fact, still holding the reigns. I couldn’t feel them, so I needed visual confirmation.

Taking photos (which I do compulsively) was torture. The simple act of holding and steadying the camera and depressing the shuttle became a laborious and agonizing struggle.

After what seemed like excruciating hours walking through the brush and over frozen streams, we finally reached the base of the Dunes. (In reality it took about 25 minutes.)

I wish I had been able to enjoy it more.

Had be able to suppress my discomfort and run and down the Dunes. But, I couldn’t. I unsteadily walked a few feet from the seated camels and turned my head away from the wind as best I could.

When we finally re-mounted the camels, I wanted mine to run back to camp as fast as physically possible. However, camels are stubborn beasts and mine preferred to amble at the back of the pack and stop to eat the brush at his discretion. Not being able to exert any force on the reigns, I was at his mercy.

I was little help later when everyone loaded up the van to leave the Ger. Graciously, I was given the “hot seat” in the van – the one seat that felt the heat first and got the warmest throughout the day.

I think everyone thought I was being a drama queen, until they saw how white my hands were and saw the grimace on my face as they started to warm up. It felt like knives stabbing every square centimeter, over and over and over.

It took almost 2.5 hours of holding my hands in front of the heater for me to regain full dexterity.

That morning is my only regret from the trip. Or maybe its just a good reason to go back someday and enjoy the Dunes properly.

*Some photos contributed by Conor O’Brien and Jacqueline Simone-Winston Silk
**For more Photo Friday, Delicious Baby is the place to be!