From the outset of the Trek, I'd looked forward to our overnight stay at Bayr Fort for several reasons. The first was that during the recce, I'd visited this historic and hallowed place, and frankly, its situation, history and current use begged for a revisit.

When planning the border crossing from Saudi Arabia into Jordan, I'd had to assume the worst in terms of the time that it would take.

On any other trek day, each rider had developed his own routine for preparing his camel. My own was to pack all my kit, have breakfast, take my “constitutional”, and catch up on trek gossip between 6 and 7 am. 

Being on an expedition such as this one only served to convince me further that I was right about one of my few theories about people. That is, there are only two sorts of individuals in this world. Those who are in the habit of waking up happy and those who are in the habit of waking up unhappy.

Waking up in Camp 11 was significant from two perspectives. The first was that Peter W., who had been one of the original driving forces of the Trek, had to leave us.