Fourteen years, one road, a lot of soft sand

I came to Dubai in 2009 from a small town near Hamburg, where I had been driving trucks and fixing them. A friend was already here, driving for a safari company, and he told me they needed drivers who were not afraid of sand. I was not afraid of sand. I was afraid of unemployment, which is a stronger motivator.

The first two years I drove the afternoon convoy: pickup, deflate, bash, sunset, camp, drop-off. You learn the dunes the way a taxi driver learns the city — by getting stuck in them. I have been stuck more times than I will admit, and pulled out more tourists than I can count, including one honeymoon couple who spent forty minutes helping me dig with a plastic sand shovel and then tipped me for the story.

In 2014 I moved to the camp side as operations manager. That meant the kitchen, the staff rota, the generators, the water trucks and the endless argument about how many guests the camp can actually seat. It also meant I stopped driving, which my back appreciated and my ego did not.

I retired last year. My daughter suggested I write down the answers I kept giving at dinner parties, and this site is the result. It is not a business. There is no booking form, no affiliate link, and no commission. If that changes, this page will say so at the top.

If you want the dunes in detail, start with The Dunes. If you want the evening planned, start with Plan The Evening.