The marketing material said the second night of the MDS ultramarathon would be spent gazing at the stars of the Namib without the inconvenience of a tent to block the view. I was looking forward to the experience of a unique stillness, and to feel alone in the seemingly endless desolation of the dunes. 

All romantic notions I might have had were shattered when Paul and I arrived at the finish line of the second race segment. We picked up our water allocation and went to the base of a dune that resembled what you might see entering a morgue. Or perhaps a homeless camp. Bodies lined up on the sand in sleeping bags with motionless heads sticking out one end (with hats). 

“OK” I said to myself, “We’ll make this work”. Paul, in a state of disbelief, could only say “I want to lie down”. So we went and found a sliver of space at one end of the lineup and threw out our sleeping bags. 

The first few hours were spent trying to rest until evening. I’m fairly sure I could have cooked an egg on my forehead. It was intensely hot in afternoon sun. I tried to help the time pass by heading off to chat with other participants or event staff. When I arrived back at my ‘parking spot’ Paul only said “You’re chatty”. He wasn’t really trying to start a conversation. 

Every day the wind would pick up around 5:00pm, throwing sand everywhere. I mean everywhere. Without the inconvenience of tents, sand entered spaces I didn’t know belonged to me.

The final injustice for Paul was the Belgian woman parked one spot over from him. She snored. With enthusiasm. As I took the most amazing photos of the Milky Way (truly beautiful sight), I overheard Paul say, to no one in particular, that if he had the energy he’d move to another dune.