Painful dune walkabout

So, I went to check out the scenic Lac Rose. I decided not to book any of the guided tours on quad bike, camel or 4X4. The plan was take couple of pictures around the lake then walk the suppose less-than-800 meters across sand dunes separating the lake from the Atlantic seaboard.
Firstly don't believe guide books. When they said less-than-800 meters, they forgot to precise that that distance was as the crow flies between two shortest point. If you are going to hike up and down dunes, zigzag through a smallish pine forest, the distance is more like 1.5km. Oh! and it is scorching hot.

                    Hiking on dunes is a pain                                   Photo - BF

I yielded to pressure from local guides and hired one of them to go with me after they told me it was dangerous to go walking about the sand alone. So we set off with Diop, my guide, after he reassured me that the coastline was just beyond the sand, he said, pointing towards the dunes the eye could see.
After the first hundred meters, I realised walking on sand with flip-flops was uncomfortable and slow, so I took them off. Big mistake. It was hot, very hot and it felt as if my soles were roasting. Back to the uncomfortable flip-flops. It was impossible trying to get any kind of traction walking. I was more like plodding along and after 200 meters, I felt a sharp pain on my lower back. 

Diop had to halt several time to wait while I catch my breath    Photo - BF 

 "Je vois que vous n'est pas en forme," Diop said as I bent double, holding my waist to catch my breath and rub my lower back. The nerve!  But I was not going to admit that I was out of shape. Turning back was out of questions so we continued. But after another hundred meters I was ready to surrender. I needed to sit or lie flat on my back to ease the pain. 
I should have hired a quad bike, a 4X4 or a camel at the nearby camp I thought. At this point I really didn't think I'll make it back. I was thirsty and somehow had manage to forget my water in the car. I asked Diop if it would be possible to hitch a ride back with one of the cars or quad bike on our way back. He said not a chance. You are suppose to register first, they are all booked out, he said. Oh merde!

Diop advances while I plod along                    Photo - BF                            

The sea is just beyond the pine trees            Photo - BF

We finally made it out of the plastic-littered pine woods, up the last dune to the Atlantic seaboard.

Voila! je vous avez dit que c'est n'est pas loin, Diop said, totally zen like he just did a stroll across the park while I finally succumbed and crumble on the sand, clutching by sides. 

Tu parles!.

I was no longer interested in the vista the greeted us. All I wanted to do was lie there and never stand up again, but I had to think of the return journey. Why didn't I just sit by the lake and drink cocktails or go float on the salty waters of the lake. Eish!

Band of brothers from a nearby village take a stroll   photo - BF