As I peeled myself from my tent perched on the edge of a vast blue ocean, the iconic words of my mother speaking to my child self, drifted through my brain … “shut the door! Were you born in a tent?!!”
Sand dune views on a Socotran sunrise
I secretly think I would have liked to have been born in a tent, as childhood memories of ”camping” in the back yard in my flimsy canvas tent were one of the most etched-into-my-brain visions I had of my formative years; plus making pretend camp fires in the front yard under the trees.
I welcomed the early morning sea breeze and let my mother’s words land in that special place where I liked to think my adventurous spirit dwelled as a young kid. I remember biking here there and everywhere - off on some big self-described intrepid journey on my orange three-geared bike with a carrier, while other girls my age went to ballet classes.
I was uncool but didn’t care.
Still am uncool.
Still don’t care.
The early morning sky was a blanket of black with pin-cushion stars. I tried to tell myself there was a better night sky in New Zealand but had to admit that actually this was pretty bloody epic. Too bad it was so windy - I wasn’t keen on getting my tripod out and attempting to keep my camera clear of sand just to get some star shots.
Sand and camera’s don’t mix.
The sea lapped close to the rocky edge of the shore and I needed to be careful not to tumble down into it.
This dark blustery morning was meant for sunrise watching. We were told to be awake at 0400 in order to walk the dune to a vantage point from which to view the sunrise. Walking a monstrous steep sand dune of sand so soft and fine it felt like walking on a bed of clouds, is no easy feat at stupid-o’clock when the body is asking “WHY?!”
I zipped up the door of my tent - careful not to let my mothers words spill out into the morning, and met the others who were joining for the upward trudge. We were driven to the base; stripped our shoes and socks off and started up. There was no ‘warm-up’ dune; it was straight into it. I swear that dune was a sixty degree angle - she was steeeeeeeeeeeeeep! The good thing about steep hikes is you get high pretty quickly. And not just due to hyperventilation. It did not take long before we were scouting for the best view point amongst others who had joined from other tour groups, including the influencers on their flowing red dresses attempting to look ‘spontaneously put together’ on their epic island ‘adventure’. I wondered if they ever really LOOKED, or if they re-lived through their heavily curated world and THEN pinched themselves after the fact.
I preferred the real-time pinch.
Gradually the sun inched toward an orange-painted sky, casting a warm glow on the white sand dunes; the wind picking up its pace in tune with the ever increasing daylight. We all sat then ; some together, some alone, but each silent in a capsule of awe as yet another ‘pinch-me’ moment presented itself. I was torn between photographing and just watching. So I mostly watched - probably ending up in the very important influencers video. Ah well - they can edit me out. Convenient, that.
Breakfast tasted especially good after the early start.
We ate with a chilled relaxed vibe, settling in to sand between our toes and teeth; in our hair and food; the promise of the days adventures hanging before us like a tantilizing prize.
I was especially excited knowing that we would get our first glimpse of the famed Dragon’s Blood Trees - the iconic shape which makes Socotra instantly recognisable for those in the know. But first we visited a coastal marine reserve (Dihamri) - a rugged stretch of coast outlined with vivid red volcanic rock, and draped with shells of all shapes, sizes and textures.
I wandered alone, amongst this visual feast - as I hunted out interesting shells and corals to photograph, while the others sat absorbed by their phones in the first wifi spot of the past three days.
We also had a cold shower here, in a small, drafty, smelly stone hut.
It felt like pure unadulterated luxury.
I was battered by the wild wind, as turbulent waves spilled up onto the shore causing the bed of shells and corals to rattle and shake as if some sort of sonic branding advertising the beaches of Socotra. The power of the waves stood in stark contrast to the tranquil beauty around me. The sand dunes of Arher Beach sliding all the way down to meet the Indian Ocean a short distance away, and the vivid blue of the water against the deep red scoria, formed a breathtaking spectacle - one that kept me captivated for over an hour while I wandered capturing images. Typically a spot that invites snorkelling and diving, the rough conditions steered us away from underwater adventures; instead, each of us found our own form of solace, before setting off toward the mountains, where the promise of lush trees and the enchanting allure of Homhil’s ‘Infinity Pool’ awaited us.
A small village enroute to Homhil Plateau, sits atop a rise overlooking a stunning vista.
The drive to Homhill involves heading inland and up, at a snails pace on the most rugged gauged out dirt roads I have ever experienced in a 4-wheel drive, to the Homhil Plateau. It was like experiencing the worst turbulence on a flight, as we were tossed about in the vehicle, like coffee beans succumbing to a grinder. This was to be our camp spot for the evening, but as we set up the tents and got ready to depart for a short walk down to the Infinity Pool, the portable toilet tent blew away! The sky was an ominous grey and the wind whipped viciously around our legs, stripping away any ideas of soaking in the inviting green waters of one of the most impressively located water pools on the island, and also of a peaceful sleep that night!
The Infinity Pool is a small pool perched on the edge of an intimidating cliff, which is fed by a series of limestone channels from the valley above.
The Infinity Pool is filled by water which drains from the plateau through limestone channels which yawn their way downwards due to a millennia of etching into the rock. This has left an intricate array of curious patterns in them. The channels culminate in the small aquamarine pool and an impressive cliff edge with views to the ocean.
The intricate patterns of limestone and alluring shape of the Dragons Blood Trees create a never-dull landscape.
Given the camp toilet was in pieces
and our tents were unable to be erected due to the origami-style attempts against gale force winds, a decision was made by the camp cooking crew to go to a different camp site while we were at the Infinity Pool. This unfolded into a hilarious adventure of ‘find the camp cook’ who had driven off with all our supplies, including tents, toilet and food, in order to find another less stormy camp site. The problem is, this place was not communicated to our drivers and we spent around two hours attempting to find it!
Eventually we did; a dried river bed surrounded by mountains and goats was to be our home for the night and we settled in to yet another evening of wonderful food, hilarity with the camp cooks and drivers joining in on the worlds smallest Jenga game (I failed miserably at this), and the bleats of wandering goats as they cruised by our small base camp checking us out. The wind blasted around us but fortunately in our river bed valley we were sheltered from the worst of it, and I settled into a restful sleep, secure in the knowledge that when I needed to get up and pee in the middle of the night, I could do so in a tent-bog that wasn’t going to blow away leaving me exposed (literally) to the elements … I think.