How desert camping in Iraq is taking off in the absence of war, as young men swap social media and ‘daily annoyances’ for tranquillity, tobacco and tea

“It is something I’ve loved since I was a little boy. But I only started doing it with friends in the winter of 2018 or 2019,” Abdallah says.

He crossed 200km (125 miles) from his southern city of Basra to reach an area untouched by the trappings of urban life – including phone networks.

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On a crisp winter weekend, around 20 campers set up their tents amid the serene dunes. The air fills with the aroma of carp grilling over a smoky wood fire, as the hikers prepare to feast on Iraq’s national dish, masgouf.

Later, some play dominoes while others bicker over heated games of backgammon, sipping hot cups of tea and smoking hookahs (water pipes). Their voices resonate with traditional Iraqi songs, their laughter piercing the still desert night.

Abdallah says desert expeditions have “become more widespread, and today many stores sell camping gear. Some [people] are starting to realise that it is safe, it is an adventure.”

But for many Iraqis, a sense of danger remains.

Iraq has been ravaged by years of conflict since the 2003 US-led invasion, including most recently the fight against the Islamic State group.

Although the jihadists were driven out of their major strongholds in late 2017, many retreated into desert hideouts, largely in the country’s west, from where they still sporadically – though with increasing rarity – stage deadly attacks.

“How can someone go to a desert where there is no water or mobile network? If something happens, how would you report it?” Abdallah says.

Iraq’s soaring summer temperatures – often surpassing 50 degrees Celsius (120 degrees Fahrenheit) – mean these arid adventures are limited to wintertime.

A weekend getaway costs between US$75 and US$100 per person, covering food, transport and accommodation. A single trip can bring together a group of up to 30 people – typically men in a conservative country where women would not normally take part in such activities.

For Hussein al-Jazairi, the journey is worth every penny.

“The city is full of dust, noise and daily annoyances,” the 34-year-old influencer says, during his first desert camping trip. “One can come here, where it is quiet, serene and there is fresh air.”

Jazairi finds his trip to the Samawah desert to be an unusual experience.

“Social media is my work. I receive non-stop notifications. By the end of the day, I have spent a very long time on my phone,” Jazairi says. “Here, there is no network. It has been two days, and my phone’s battery is still 70 per cent. I haven’t used it.”

While Jazairi encourages people to explore the country’s vast sand hills, he warns that “one should not go alone, especially for the first time”.

“We came with experts who know the places around.”

Iraq’s deserts long attracted hunters, both locals and those from neighbouring Gulf countries, before the years of conflict drove them away. Campers still need to remain vigilant, as some areas are riddled with mines, while the borders with Saudi Arabia, Iran and Syria are intersected by routes used by drug traffickers or jihadists.

“We don’t start any trip without first identifying where we will sleep,” says Murad al-Bahadli, a camper with more than eight years of experience.

“We plan carefully to avoid any security risk,” the 38-year-old adds.

Yet the placid desert nights are a far cry from the years of turmoil, and for many their lure is irresistible.

“This area is unique. There is no one, not even a sound,” says Ravshan Mokhtarov, an Uzbek who has been living in Basra for six years, as he expresses gratitude for “Iraqi hospitality”.

“It is pretty much safe. I don’t feel any danger.”