Marooned!

...and rescued.

Just arrived home following our rescue by the Qatari Police/Coast Guards, who have advised us to camp elsewhere next time.

“Why here?” one asked me. “You could have gone to [stream of Arabic place names located at increasing distances down the coast and possibly in another policeman’s jurisdiction if the frenetic arm-waving gestures were any indication]. Here not good. Not come back again!”

Unfortunately not coming back again isn’t an option since Martin’s brand new 4WD is still sitting in the Persian Gulf, where it became ensconced last night just before the sun went down and the tide came rushing in and up…

Have you any idea how quickly tides rise?

One moment the engine had temporarily stopped just as we were exiting a few inches of water, and 10 minutes later, the wheels were under water, as we frantically unpacked tents, Eskies (ice chests), bedding and food, wading up to a few feet of sand that looked – please god – as if it was above the high tide line.

John & Dana before the panic sets in...

Martin & John lugging stuff to 'safe' ground

20 minutes to sun down: We put up the tent, lit the BBQ and poured ourselves drinks, then sat back to watch the water…

…rising.

Me, stressing totally. Unlike my companions. Lighting the BBQ in front of the newly erected tent. When in doubt, cook...

John rings his wife in the United States, who, as a sensible Chinese would never do anything as stark-raving bonkers as spend the night in the sand and open air, to explain that yes, we won’t actually drown if the water keeps rising, but that we were a kilometer from land and likely to get very, very wet.

Our little sand-bar. All the bushes you can see in this photo were underwater last night.

Martin’s car engine is now fully underwater, and as it hits the electrical systems, the headlights and horn switch themselves on – and on – until the battery and car finally die.

Martin: “I am going to cry.”

Oh, but the beauty of the place. The sky and the light and the water, birds, peace. With water right up to our little dry sand-bar island, with a breeze coming through, and the sound of water trickling in, it was extraordinary. And since the 3 sanest, calmest people I know were with me, we gave up thought of the car and the rising water and… camped.

Dana: “This is really fun. This is the most exciting thing that has happened to me in Qatar.”

John: “I have to tell you that I snore really, really loudly.”

Our beautiful, beautiful campsite

Camping: Wine, Dine, Sheesha?

Martin, for the record, did not in fact cry. Neither did he rant, scream, bitch or whinge, as I would have done in the same situation. “You’ve obviously marrying the right person there,” I said to Dana afterwards. “Yeah,” she said thoughtfully, “I thought he would have behaved more dramatically.”

So this morning the police returned. They had been with us the night before, but had simply asked Martin why on earth he had not parked next to the road and walked. I do find it hard to warm to people who ask these kinds of questions.

Two friends drove up in their cars to bring us and our stuff back to Doha. One was the stalwart Mohammed Abbas, whom you’ll know from previous blog posts. When I rang him initially just after the water covered the car, he thought it was my little green Kia Picanto that was stuck out there in the Gulf. He tried patiently and calmly (yes, I know, I seem to be surrounded by these enormously calm people. Clearly I have done something right in a previous life to have earned this kind of karma) to explain to me that my car would be washed out into the Gulf when the tide went down.

Imagine that! I could have let my old students know to watch out for it as it passed by Sharjah or Umm Al Quwain. Go get that car, guys! I’m counting on you…

They would’ve too, Emirati problem-solving skills being what they are.

Anyway, we’re back – for now. I’m getting out there again as soon as I can. But I will not be choosing the location this time, and I rather doubt that Martin, Dana and John will come with me...

Me with Dead Car.