It was a lovely morning ride down the coast from Ras Al Jinz Beach: nearly 100 km of alternating bleak plains, endless white beaches, picturesque fishing villages, and constant views of vast oceanic extents.
Eventually, we reached a little town named Al Ashkirah. There we had to bid farewell to the ocean. We parked the car and went for a stroll along the town’s scenic coast. We ended up at the port where a place marked as ‘pub’ stood on the map. The chances of it not being a mistake were negligible, but, after all these weeks in Oman, the however trifling prospect of having a cold beer made us check it out anyway. Of course, there was nothing. We didn’t manage to have a beer so we stuck to the Omani norm: Indian food and fresh juice.
Then we took highway 35 and headed west into the hinterland. We finally arrived in Jalan Bani Bu Ali in the early afternoon. This was a pretty big and busy town. We supplied ourselves with edibles and took to searching for cigarettes. That took us quite some time of wandering around the town’s sandy lanes. We might have asked nearly a hundred people who would only point to some random, different each time, direction. After all, we chanced to ask the tobacco shop owner himself. We followed him to the shop which he opened for us.
Later on, we visited the fort of Jalan Bani Bu Ali. It was in utter desuetude, though still imposing and picturesque. Extremely cautiously, so to make sure that no floor is going to collapse beneath our feet, nor roof above our head, we walked into the building and checked out the views of the town and the surrounding desert from the upper levels. The fort would also have made a nice place to camp for the night, and we contemplated the possibility of doing so, but after all, we decided to stick to the plan, which was to venture out from the town towards the Wahiba Sands.
This is the most inhospitable region of Oman outside of the Empty Quarter: an area of 12500 sq km occupied by nothing much other than sand. The desert owes its name to the Bani Wahiba tribe who inhabits it, and it is also known as Sharqiya Sands. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the capacity of venturing too far out into the desert without a 4×4, but we gave it a try to see how far we can go.
As we slowly drove on the bumpy road past the bed of Wadi Bani Khalid, an old jeep approached us swiftly from behind. I turned my head to see a lone middle-aged Arab man looking at us intently as he overtook us. He pulled over a few
A while later we were parked beside a goat sty atop a dune wither he invited us to follow him. We were on his land, and he offered to give us an excursion in his jeep. It was quite a vast area inherited to him by many a generation of forefathers. His family house within the property is declared a national heritage of Oman; he lamented that – just as with many historical monuments in the country – the authorities have shown no initiative or sensitivity for its maintenance.
Nowadays, no one lives within the property on a permanent basis. Mohamed is the sole heir of it but has moved to the town with his family. He here only keeps his hundreds of goats, camels, cows, and other animals; he gathers with his friends to chill
We drove around the area all the way until sunset, which sunset, with the concluding sunlight leaning gently against the smooth dune slopes until it was completely lost behind the most distant of them, was an exquisite spectacle to behold, and we returned to the same spot where we’d parked the car.
Mohamed laid a rug on the sand and served coffee. He said he would need to leave soon to go to the market and bring food to his family and he would then come back. Before he left, he asked us at least 40 times whether we would like him to bring food for us too. We answered as many times that “no, thank you, we have plenty of food and it will go bad if we don’t eat it”, but all the same, it didn’t seem very probable that he will return with empty hands. He walked into the coop, a chicken released one of its last cries, a harrowing cry – probably that’s what he meant by ‘market’ – and drove away.
A while later he was back with his whole family and a huge bag full of food. All of us sat on the rug and suppered in the fresh desert breeze under the sparkling night sky.
After many cups of tea, Mohamed and his family left for home. The breeze by then was more cold than fresh. We pitched the tents by the leeward wall of the goat sty and crashed. There is no fitter place for sleeping sweetly than the desert.
Nor is there any place fitter for getting up early and marveling at a soul-moving sunrise; all this warmth, all this broadness, how they do elevate human sensation!
Mohamed showed up about an hour after sunrise. Max woke up shortly after. We packed and drove to Mohamed’s house in the town. There we entered a wide lounge layered with a fine carpet, bestrewn with cushions, and decorated with a smaller portrait of young Mohamed in military uniform and a bigger one of the Sultan.
We remained there for up to two hours chatting with Mohamed over the prolific breakfast his wife prepared. Then it was time to proceed on our trip towards the cradle of Wadi Bani Khalid.
Accommodation and Activities in Oman
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