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Oman Thrills

A December 2007 trip to Oman by maral

Omani Bedouin Children Photo - Oman, Middle East

Quote: Experiencing dune-bashing, Bedouin hospitality, camel-riding, and sleeping out in the Omani desert leaves a lasting impression.

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Camping in the Omani Desert

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Attraction | "Being Thrilled in Oman!"

Quote:

"Camp out on the Wahibah Sands!" the ad beckons. Checking the website at www.desert-discovery.com we 4 Canadians confirm our choice and chorus "yes"! Eager to explore more of this Sultanate, we pack. Map on lap, we easily find the main road south from the capital. My sister, her co-worker, my husband, and I are off on a quest for an Omani experience. (Air-conditioning and water bottles are a must!)
The expanse of the desert is mind-boggling. Two hours later our road becomes a dirt path, barely recognizable as a road. We pass donkeys, goats, camels, and the occasional older model pick-up. The ruts in the sand become increasingly difficult to navigate. The car groans and so do we, as it sinks fender-deep into the earth. The bad news--we are stuck in the desert!
The good news--we have less than a mile to walk. On a distant hill we see a settlement of grass-roofed huts. That must be our camp. Grabbing our packs, water bottles and hats, we plow through the sand (very similar to walking in snowdrifts!) and climb the cliff up to Al Areesh Camp. We have arrived, but where is our guide?
A Bangladeshi youth meets us at the top of the hill and, in halting English, murmurs that Ahmed will soon be appearing. Looking around we see colorful Persian carpets, bordered by overstuffed pillows, leaning against the makeshift wooden walls. White plastic chairs are scattered along nearby picnic tables. The 'wall' to the south isn't there--offering a 180-degree panorama of the desert, now bathed in the golden hues of the afternoon sun. Adjusting the cushions to take advantage of the view, we savor the scene.
A dusty trail smokes a path to the camp! Ahmed, resplendent in his Omani whites, hops from a late model SUV grinning and extending a dark hand in welcome. His English is excellent and manner courteous. He give us 3 women the once over and we are glad we have respected the Omani rule of female modesty--no bare shoulders or legs! Introductions are made and small talk happens between the men, but our guide is restless. "Before the sun sets, you must come," he urges.
With Ahmed at the controls, we roller coaster in his shiny white Toyota Land Cruiser over the caramel colored dunes that sweep from yesterday into tomorrow. They call it dune bashing and that is exactly what we do--when we aren't stuck! No problem though. "We be turtles," he explains as the terracotta colored granules fly. No need for shovels! We gasp at expansive views from the crests and gulp during nosedives to the valleys. When out of the vehicle, we run along the rippling hills. The warm sand tickles our toes, but occasionally a scrubby copse of desert brush stops us with a poke.
After an hour of sheer adrenalin rush, we return to the flatlands and roar up to a small settlement, a traditional Bedouin village. Upon opening the truck door, my nostrils detect the sent of animal dung, of dust and, what's that?--Donuts? I must be dreaming! Fourteen inquisitive eyes stare out from soiled faces draped in brilliant reds, yellows, blues, and greens. These are the girls. The boys are in white. Squatting on tattered carpets are five women completely covered in black abayas, except for their dark faces. You have never seen such startling brown eyes. A smile can say 1000 words and their toothless ones say, "You are welcome. Come."
We do. A dusty copper-colored carpet is centered about 3 feet in front of the matriarchs and they beckon us to sit. Three young boys carry out platters--one with a mountain of fresh sticky dates; the second with strings of dough, deep-fried and sugared; (Ah, nose you didn't fail me!) and the third bears tiny porcelain cups brimming with pungent black coffee. Basking in the rosy gold of the setting sun, we break the fast with these nomads. The tranquility is momentary. Ahmed has an agenda and it includes camel riding! The oldest son of this blended Bedouin family leads a mangy dromedary towards us. With trepidation, I walk over to the shaggy brunette, eying the dark leather reins held by the dishdasha-clad boy. What? No saddle? No, just a red, white, and blue plaid wool blanket will cushion me from this bony beast! My camera-toting mate stands ready for an action shot (afterwards I find the photos hilarious) and encourages me to get on. The camel obediently thumps to the ground. Cautiously I approach and mount, clutching the belly strap tightly. I get the sensation of a slow elevator ride as the rear legs unfold jerkily, lifting me and thrusting my body forward. "Lean back! Lean back!" I do. The front lanky appendages straighten clumsily and yee-ha! I am camel riding! It breaks into a trot while I holler to the boy, but he doesn't understand English. For $US8, the ride is thankfully, quite short. Soon the gait slows, and we three--the beast, the lad, and me return to the village. Reversing the procedure to dismount is another feat. To experience the thrill you should try riding a camel at least once. I've already done it twice--my first time and my last.
Back we go to the camp, where lights powered by a noisy generator dispel the darkness. Our cleanup in the small center courtyard is hurried. The distinctive aroma of barbecued goat wafts to our frond-covered huts, drawing us out to the canvas 'dining hall'. The scent of Middle Eastern spices on the kebabs invite us to the buffet, arranged simply, yet appealingly on the plank table. Cucumber, onion and tomato salad smothered with olive oil, yogurt and lime; freshly washed romaine; toasted flat bread; grilled eggplant and red peppers; chicken curry; lentil stew; and steamed rice join the featured skewers. Platters of fresh pineapple and watermelon round out the menu--plenty to satisfy any appetite fueled by the afternoon's activities.
As we retire to the 'parlor' (raised wooden platform, carpeted and cushioned) the generator dies, allowing the full moon to now light this desert group. Ahmed kindles a fire in the stone-circled pit. We get comfy on the deck. Seeing a desert cat lurking stealthily nearby, we sit motionless until he darts away into the night on a chase. Our guide, in his traditional garb, languishes by the glowing embers, sharing insightful stories of Omani culture, his family, and hopes for the future. We are blissfully silent, captured by the simplicity of time and place. The sudden shrill ring of a cell phone jolts us back to reality and, laughing at the invasion of modernity into this nomadic setting, we head off to our huts to sleep.
We’re glad for the stack of wool blankets on the single cots now, as the desert night is chilly. All too soon the 5:00 a.m. alarm buzzes and I'm almost tempted to press the snooze button, but no, sunrise in the desert is not to be missed!
Dune after dune we climb. It's quite a morning workout before we finally reach the highest peak. From this vantage-point we witness the birth of a new day. I sit, mesmerized as the citrus sun kisses the crested honey-colored lips of the sand hills, and continues to caress her undulating curves. I dig my toes into the cool grainy earth trying to keep the moment. But you can't hold the sands of time. Dawn is now day. Time to move on.
Attempting to jog, my sister stumbles and rolls down the first dune. Her cries of sheer delight echo to us. So like carefree schoolchildren, we all cavort, roll and slide--surfing the waves of sand, landing back at base camp in about 20 minutes. We shake off the grainy droplets like a dog on the beach after a morning's romp in the sea, retrieving a stick tossed by his master. We've found our stick.
The aroma of sizzling sausages and freshly brewed Omani coffee shortens the length of our refreshingly cold showers. We pad over to the tables. Our Bengali cook has outdone himself again. An 'English Grill' greets us along with the Arabic fare of olives, yogurt, and cucumbers. Appetites whetted from the overnight fast and the dawn-breaking experience, we devour every morsel. As we contemplate the next adventure over a steaming mug of flavor-rich coffee, Ahmed joins us with a cheery hello and an offer to tow our forgotten stuck-in-the-sand car!
Barefoot, but hat-covered, we slide down the slope to our vehicle. Nearby, curious camels raise their heads briefly, but return to the water leaking from a cracked cistern. It's been less than 24 hours since we left our car, but we have gained a lifetime of memories. One tug from the Land Cruiser and we are mobile. "Come back, and bring a friend!" our guide shouts. Grinning, we speed across the desert to explore more of Oman, this 'Land of 1001 Thrills'.
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Member Rating 5 out of 5 on April 6, 2009