“I told you! You’ve taken the wrong turn.” I moaned, trying to get maps working on my phone.

“Calm down will ya. It’s a quicker route.” Greg replied. “And it’s more scenic. Look, a sheep! Baaaah”, he bleated out the window.

Most families have some form of tradition. Bank holiday camping trips. Fish and chip Fridays. Weekly games night. And like most families, mine has one too. Except ours is more like a ritual. A rite.

The desert heat enveloped me like a thick fog, stifling and relentless, clinging to my skin. We plodded on, each step heavier than the last, my calves burning from the dunes. My shoulders ached and my head was pounding.