As far as I can remember searing heat, unquenchable thirst and hazy mirages have all been synonymous with the Sahara. None of my daydreams involved me being abandoned there, however. A 3 day trek in the Dogon Country of Sub-Saharan Mali, was my next stop. I had heard it was beautiful.

But things started on the wrong foot when I arrived in nearby Bandiagara; the only available and seedy looking hotel turned out to be a make-shift brothel. Desperate to leave the next day, I ignored the guidebook’s advice and reserved a tour there and then on an all-inclusive arrangement. And we left. “Things aren’t so bad,” I thought.

And they weren’t. In fact, things were going swimmingly. The Dogon was stunning. Areas of desert mixed with abrupt rock formations with tiny villages tucked up against them.

We walked from village to village at daybreak, rested during the heat of the day, and continued at dusk. I was privy to local village life, first hand. It was incredible.

My pet favourite were the everyday greetings. A simple Good Morning or How are you? would not suffice. They would ask each other how every single member of their family were. These greetings could go on for a couple of minutes, and would often continue when out of earshot.

On the last day having been woken by the braying of a mule (funny, it was the same every morning), our transport out didn’t materialise. So I had to stay an extra night in a nearby village, more than a little suspicious. The following morning the guide declared that the local villagers were angry; that day was a holy day and I should have left previously. I was stumped. Approaching were a group of heavy-looking men with which it was impossible not to have an argument, and only just possible to avoid a fight.

I left (or ran) to the road (or dirt track) a safe distance away and did the only thing I could do. Wait. And I waited. And it was hot. And I had half a bottle of water to last me .... how long?

Finally, as the sun was setting, a car overflowing with people and luggage crawled over the horizon and towards me. Passage came at a price – they knew I had no choice. It was a long journey home.