I found camels without exception to be faithless, pusillanimous, and lazy.

From Trying to Please by John Julius Norwich.  Page 260.  In the Sahara.

In ten days spent in disagreeable proximity to a good many of them, I found camels without exception to be faithless, pusillanimous, and lazy. They also suffer from a halitosis unique in my experience. We rode them occasionally, but the local saddles basically consisted of a single forked branch, which even with half a dozen blankets on top of it inflicted, after a few minutes, a degree of pain that I hardly knew existed. It was infinitely more comfortable—and, incidentally, a good deal safer—to walk, which in the mornings we usually did, clambering on to the camels only for the last couple of hours of the day.

On the afternoon of the fourth day’s steady climb we arrived at our final destination—Soborom. It is not a village, nor an oasis, nor yet a mountain. It is a geological phenomenon, one of the most spectacular centers of continuous volcanic activity in the world, a land of perpetual turmoil. Our descent into it had a Dante-esque quality. We and the camels had to thread our way between great natural cauldrons of seething mud; the air was thick with the fumes of brimstone; and the ground itself rang ominously hollow underfoot, a constant reminder of the nameless horrors that lurked beneath. The colors, too, were not of this world: a green which spread over the sand and rocks like a creeping mineral mold, a brilliant yellow and orange produced by other sinister subterranean exhalations, and a dirty white natron, looking like old, spilt milk on a railway platform.