I hate to interrupt the Europe series, but they take a while to write and I simply cannot contain the excitement of what was probably the most eventful weekend in the past year!
Most of my weekends are just two days where I do nothing according to routine, just to challenge the monotony of everyday (Read: Sleep late, wake up late, eat, read, sleep, watch series, eat and then go grocery shopping) – and if ever I get a chance to do something even remotely thrilling, laziness gets the better of me.
So when Rebecca (RJ, because there is another Rebecca involved in this story – we will call her by her last name, Cox) asked me whether I wanted to go on a trek this weekend, it took me a while to respond to her email saying yes.
And so up I was on a Friday morning at 5 am, picking up Abdullah and Rebecca’s friend Cox even before the Sun was up, and headed on the expressway towards Nizwa in RJ’s amazing Prado!
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| Morning in our eyes |
After a 210 km drive covered in around 2 hours, we got our friendly neighbourhood Arab, Abdullah to ask for directions, almost went up a gravel path, then finally took the road from to Al Hamra and drove uphill to reach the starting point, where the organiser and his friends were waiting patiently for us novices to arrive.
(Click here for a full map and detailed brochure of all routes)
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Map courtesy: Ministry of Tourism
‘S’ is the starting point and the other red dot is the first place we stopped. |
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| Abdullah and Cox! |
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| RJ laces up! |
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| When my knees didn’t know what they were about to go through 😀 |
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| The gang! |
I think I had some preconceived notions about a trek, thinking that it would be a marked trail and a clear path through the mountains, but I was in for quite a rude shock. It was as bare natural as it could get! A few rocks had the trail route (W10h) painted on them, but that was about it. Those going on the 6-hour and 9-hour trek sprinted ahead of us, while RJ and Abdullah very kindly kept the panting me company as we climbed up, dodging brambles, loose rocks and littered empty liquor bottles.
After about an hour of scaling the Western Hajar range, we came to the first rest point – a huge plateau overlooking an even more immense gorge – known as the Sharaf Al Alamayan. We could see the roads snaking through the wadis, a small village tucked away under the shade of the gigantic mountains and while Abdullah was being very brave, RJ and I steered clear of the rims! Cox, being an experienced hiker sped ahead with the others and we sat down for a drink and some Oreos (Abdullah had been the only one who thought of bringing some grub!). RJ discovered that her water pouch had a leak, which meant she had to drink the whole litre by herself unless she wanted all that water to go to waste – quite a fun moment, see her having to suckle all that water before it ran out and darkened the rocks!
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| Oreo and Pocari picnic! |
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| That view! |
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Gulp!
This is right after Abdullah gives us his ‘in-case-of-emergency’ details. |
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| Drink! Drink! Drink! |
In about twenty minutes, we journeyed on and came across massive plates of slates, which made very tricky walking grounds. A single slip, and you could be sure to find yourself cruising down to the bottom of the gorge, hence much concentration was needed. All through the walk, we were met with extraordinary views and really strong winds which made sure that we didn’t feel a bit of the heat. As we reached the end of the trail after another hour and a half, my calves were revolting and I was thinking that I would possibly need to be air-lifted out the mountain – but half an hour of napping on the warm rocks, seeing white-bottomed ants go about on their business definitely made me feel better. And of course, more Oreos.
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| Steep slate we tread across |
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| Ah, rest! |
As we lay there, staring at the cloudless sky and chatting about all things from toilet seats to the concepts of guilt-induced religion, I thought to myself about stereotypes. How we generalise and dismiss people even before getting to know them well. Abdullah is one of the nicest, most-open people I have ever met and he comes from the small town of Tabreeth, near Salalah. Never even having spoken English until he was 18, he amuses all of us with his humility, broad-mindedness and of course his grasp on the language. RJ is nothing like the many English people I have met and rolled eyes at because of their myopic view of the world. I have nothing but praise to offer her for being so inclusive!
Anyway, the fresh mountain air is said to clear many a minds, and I could be no exception. A lot of people seem to think that without snow, towering pines or layers of green, mountains are incomplete – but personally I find the barren range in Oman majestic in its own way.
Getting back to the return journey, we were walking back to the cars
(another 3.5 km) and managed to lose the trail. That resulted in having a much more difficult walk, almost
Sylvester-Stallone-style, hugging rocks and crossing through really narrow pathways
(very very scary), tearing pants, getting cut and bruised before we actually found the marked route. As most of the first part of the journey was ascending, the walk now was mostly easy as we were going down slopes.
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| The walk back… |
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| Almost there. With RJ! |
By the time we reached the parking lot, I thought my legs were going to fall apart. Which is also a sign how unfit I am, but I was every bit glad to have made it. This is yet another opportunity where I pushed myself to a certain limit, the first having happened during the last dive of
my PADI certification course – and I must say, it felt good.
We were to meet Cox at a village called Misfat Al Arbayeen, which was an hour’s winding drive from where we were. After lunch at one of Al-Hamra’s coffee shops we drove up to the delightful little place up another mountain, nestled in a large oasis covered with date palms which was a perfect example of rural Oman. As we waited for Cox, we explored the village, having exchange pleasantries through Abdullah. It was built around a really old fort, had a beautiful falaj (a water-distribution system through canals) and lush greenery!
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| The village from a distance |
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| Exploring the old fort |
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| *Too much Sun* |
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| Traditional Omani door |
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Entrance to the Falaj.
Tri-lingual instructions for bumbling tourists |
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| The deceptive route marker! |
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| Lush! |
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| Ba-na-na 😀 |
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| We sat by the Falaj, in the shade |
During the rather long wait for the other party (Yes, they got a bit lost themselves), RJ and Abdullah took naps in the car as people pressed their noses up the windows to figure out why these three people wearing sunglasses were sitting in a car with the engine running! We finally left the village at half past hour and drove the two hours back to Muscat, with only a short stop at Hungry Bunny for refreshments.
I’ve almost called Oman a little bit on the boring side, with a scarcity of things to do – but I guess I am rather wrong. If the intention exists, and the right company can be found – the Sultanate’s got it all!
