Sailing to Jordan

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The rugged, brown scenery streaked past my window at an alarming rate. Each bend in the road was accompanied by a slight squealing as the tires struggled to keep their tenuous hold on the asphalt. We charged up a slight incline in the road and then, right when we reached the crest, I got a strange sensation like we were flying. It only lasted for a split second before the screech of the tires and a jarring thud confirmed that we had been airborne. I looked up to the driver in the front seat, his gloved hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, and saw a broad smile on his face – He was still in control. My travel companion turned around from the front passenger seat. He had an equally broad smile that I knew mirrored the smile on my face. We had been going strong for nearly half an hour. It seemed that our driver, who had spent his teenage years learning how to drive in America, had never lost his hot-rodding spirit. It was like we were in a miniature Cannonball Run, only the challenge was to take two tourists from Dahab to a small port just outside of Taba, a distance of about 120 kilometers, in less than an hour.

We blew past the turn for Nuweiba and I smiled again. I was thankful that I had found another way to Jordan other than on the ferry from Nuweiba, which had a reputation of being the worst of travel experiences amongst everyone I had talked to that had experienced it. It was still unclear whether the slightly shady man that had set our journey up and taken our money had told us the truth. We were hopeful that there would be a Jordan-bound boat where we were headed, but it sounded too good to be true and we were both skeptical. My companion for the journey was a Jordanian-American that had also decided that it was worth trusting the man for even a remote chance of not having to take the ferry across. I thought through everything the man had told us before we left: “What ever you do, don’t tell the guards on the Egypt side that you are not coming back to Egypt and if they ask about your backpacks tell them that you are staying in Petra for a few nights before returning.” He told us that usually the authorities only wanted group tours that were on an overnight trip to Petra to arrive on the smaller boat. He assured us that it was perfectly legal to arrive the way we were, but they just didn’t want to advertise it.

Shortly after we passed Nuweiba the road merged with the Gulf of Aqaba and the scenery was filled with grand vistas of jagged desert mountains and deep blue water. We skidded to a stop at a guard shack for a mega resort in Taba Heights. The guard waved us through and then we drove down a long gravelly road to a small building at the tiny harbor. The driver got out, popped the trunk and handed us our bags, then he reiterated what the man in Dahab had told us. He wished us a great journey, quickly climbed back in the car and drove away. We walked over to a lonely bench and set our bags down. The building we were standing by was locked up and deserted, there was no boat at the adjacent dock and it didn’t look like there had been for some time. We still had an hour before we were scheduled to depart, so we took a seat on the bench and waited. About an hour and a half into our waiting, just as we started talking about how we would find our way back to the ferry, a truck pulled up and a guard got out. He told us that the boat would be leaving shortly and asked us to continue waiting. Another half an hour, or so, went by before the vans started arriving with loads of daypack toting tourists and after another half hour the guards finally opened the door for the customs and immigration check. A lovely sailboat pulled up to the dock while we waited in line. My friend and I exchanged relieved smiles – Our outlook on the journey was starting to improve. Just before we got to the guards we rehearsed our stories, just in case we were questioned about our packs. The guard took my passport, stamped it and handed it back without so much as a glance in my direction – I guess it wasn’t as big of a deal as the shady man in Dahab had made it out to be. We boarded the boat, stashed our bags in the deckhouse and then took a seat on the forward deck cushions. A short time later the ropes where coiled on deck and we had Egypt in our fantail. I waived a fond farewell to the land of the Pharaohs and then I looked forward, along our bowsprit, to the sun-scorched land ahead of us.

It was the first time I had been on an oceangoing sailboat since I left the bark Europa in Cape Town seven months before. It felt good to feel the heaving of the deck planks beneath my feet and the salty wind in my face and, though we never set our sails, I felt as though I was back where I was supposed to be. I ended up sanding in the bow for the entire journey watching the distant hills get closer. At one point I was greeted by a scene right out of my Southern Ocean adventure on the Europa – A huge school of flying fish burst out of the water beside the boat and glided along the tips of the waves before disappearing again. They continued their show for several minutes before they abruptly disappeared. I had been engrossed in watching the fish and hadn’t noticed the coast approach, so when I looked up I was shocked by how close the large port and its giant container ships was. My friend came up to me and pointed to a large ship with a derelict appearance that was tied up to the quay and said, “That is the ferry, which means the people in Nuweiba are still waiting for it to arrive!” He smiled and then walked towards the deckhouse to get his gear. I looked at the ferry and then the industrial port area it was tied up at and felt happy that I had found that shady man in Dahab. I kept expecting the boat to turn into the port, but we never did. We continued north along the coast toward Aqaba’s main waterfront area. We passed the lovely Plaza of the Arab Revolt with a giant Jordanian Flag and then the huge fortress that had been heavily shelled by the British Navy and was then the focus of Lawrence of Arabia’s assault on Aqaba during the Arab Revolt in 1917 with the forces of Sharif Hussein.

We eventually pulled up to a dock in the Royal Marina right down town. We got off of the boat and went to a small building beside the dock. Two men came out and greeted us and then they collected our passports and went back inside. About ten minutes later he emerged with a stack of freshly stamped passports. As we walked out of the marina I asked my friend, who could read the Arabic better than I could, to make sure that the visa we had gotten was correct. He confirmed that it was the proper stamp and that it would be good for a month – It seemed that all was well with our unconventional border crossing! I found a room in a giant, concrete hotel called the Jordan Flower Hotel, I stashed my bags and then I set off to see the city. I quickly took care of the usual necessities of entering a new country, such as getting local money, and then I went in search of the museum and castle that I had seen from the water. I had no map, but I remembered that the castle was near the giant flag and I could see that from just about anywhere in the city. I wound my way through the streets talking with several locals as I went. I was immediately surprised by how friendly everyone was. People seemed genuinely interested in talking with me, yet not one person, aside from the man selling tickets for the museum and castle, tried to part me with my money. I quickly walked through the museum, which was small, but had several nice artifacts from southern Jordan. Then I made my way to the castle, which was the highlight of Aqaba for me.

Crusaders originally built the Aqaba castle, but after they were forced out of the Holy Land the fort was taken over by the Mamluks, who expanded it extensively. Eventually the castle fell under the control of the Ottoman Empire. During World War I the castle was badly damaged by British shelling in support of the Arab Revolt. The damage from the shelling was visible all over the fortress. Most of the upper levels had been reduced to rubble during the campaign. Recent restoration has stabilized the castle and rebuilt much of its outer appearance. The result made for a very nice place to explore. I spent hours wandering around the dark passages and rooms. I found several stairs that led to the upper levels and I had an amazing time up there, mainly because there were no handrails or barriers, just ancient walls of stone and passages that occasionally led to sheer drop-offs or dead ends. I was the only person, other than the caretaker, for almost three hours. Just before closing time another couple appeared, took a quick walk around and then disappeared again. The caretaker rounded me up at closing time and walked me to the big wooden doors and said something in Arabic that resembled ‘good night’. I smiled and said, “Shucran” and started walking back toward town. The giant wooden doors creaked shut behind me as I turned the corner.

That night I ate an amazing meal in a local eatery and then I spent a few hours searching for baklava and tea. I headed back to the hotel after sunset and talked with the man behind the counter for a while regarding buses and transport from Aqaba. I had another cup of tea, checked in on the Internet and then I went back to my room and collapsed, exhausted, into my bed.

The following morning I was up with the sun. I packed my bags, checked out of the hotel and found some breakfast a few blocks away at a shop that was just opening its doors. With my belly full and my time in Aqaba over, I headed to the bus station. There I watched my bus close its doors and drive away – They were early! I asked around at the station trying to find out when the next bus was due to leave. The consensus amongst the people milling about at the station was that it would be several hours later. I was sitting on a curb contemplating what I was going to do to fill my time waiting for the bus when an ancient cab pulled up in front of me. The man introduced himself as Mustafa and he asked me where I was headed. I told him, “Wadi Rum” and he smiled and said, “It is very nice there.” He then told me that the bus would not get me to Wadi Rum in time to get out into the desert that night. He offered to take me for 10 dinars, which was considerably more than the bus ride would have been. I waffled for a moment and then I agreed. We drove around Aqaba for another half hour collecting several crates of fresh vegetables and fruits, which Mustafa told me he would sell in the Rum village market for some extra money. We put Aqaba behind us as we drove east into the desert. Mustafa turned out to be one of the most pleasant people I met in the Middle East, and that is saying something, since it is a land filled with incredibly friendly people. He pointed out all of the features in the landscape, modern and ancient, natural and manmade. He was a wealth of knowledge and he was very proud of his country. When we came to the turnoff for Wadi Rum he told me that the bus would have dropped me off there and left me to fend for myself to get into town. He drove me all the way to the guard station at the entrance to the wadi. I paid my way in and then he drove me into town. Mustafa took me to his friend’s house, where he asked me to wait by the car and then he ran inside to talk with his friend. A few minutes later he came out, followed by a Bedouin man and a small child. He said that the man had a camp out in the desert and that he had a small group leaving in a few hours to head out there. We quickly negotiated and agreed on a price for an overnight excursion into the desert and then Mustafa wished me luck on my journey and drove away to sell his produce.

The Bedouin man escorted me into his home, which was a nice, permanent concrete structure, and asked me to wait in a large room with plush cushions on the floor. A lady, presumably his wife, brought out some hot tea and then she left me alone in the room. I spent then next hour or so sipping tea and smiling at the antics of his children as they sneaked peaks at me and giggled through the curtains. The man eventually came back in the room and told me that my ride had arrived. Several people entered the room with their backpacks and the man instructed us to take only what we needed for the night and to leave the rest in his home. We spent a few minutes reorganizing our bags and then we walked out to the street where an ancient relic of a truck was waiting for us. We were introduced to our guide for the day, which was another Bedouin man, and then we climbed into the military-green Land cruiser and, with a lurch, we started our journey into the fabled sands of Wadi Rum.

My companions for the journey into the desert were two couples from France, a couple from Poland and our Bedouin guide. The truck we were in had been plying the sands of the wadi since the early 1960’s and it had a unique character of its own that made it seem like another member of the group. It only took a few turns on the dusty streets before we left Rum village behind us and entered the pristine desert, following a deep, sandy track into the unknown. We started our exploration off with a “BANG”, quite literally, when the truck’s muffler and exhaust pipe popped off in a loud backfire and wedged themselves between the back axle and the desert floor. We paused for a moment while I helped our guide untangle the steel wreckage from the axle and then we were on our way again. The throaty roar from our un-muffled beast echoed across the land and bounced off of the sheer walls of the mountains surrounding the valley. Somehow, the sound seemed like it belonged. We followed the sandy path deeper into the ancient landscape.

Rum village became a speck on the horizon behind us. It seemed like every kilometer we drove took us further into the past. The timeless mountains and flowing red sand had been unchanged for thousands of years. Human presence in the wadi goes back more than eight thousand years. The earliest inhabitants left few traces, though their mysterious petroglyphs adorn several hidden corners of the valley. Nabateans, Romans, crusaders, Mamluks, Ottoman Turks… They all have left their mark on Wadi Rum. The Bedouins arrived some time in the hazy past, well before the rest, and they have outlasted them all and are thriving in the valley to this day. Wadi Rum’s recent claim to fame came in 1917 when T.E. Lawrence and Sharif Hussein incited the Bedouin tribes to take up arms against the Ottoman Empire. It was from Wadi Rum, also known as the Valley of the Moon, that they made their famous raids on the Ottoman supply trains and their epic ride on Aqaba, forming an important part of the Arab Revolt, which pushed the Ottomans out of the area.

Earlier in the day when Mustafa had helped me set up my journey into the desert most of the conversation had taken place in rapid-fire Arabic. The details that trickled down to me were the basics: I would be sleeping in a Bedouin camp in the desert, I was going with several companions, I would be fed and they would take me out there and pick me up. I had missed several details, so when our beast came to a stop at a group of black, goat-hair tents, the traditional abode of the Bedouins, I thought we had arrived at camp. I gathered all of my things and set off after our guide. He led us away from the camp to a large boulder and then he pointed out a group of Nabatean petroglyphs that had been carved into the red stone thousands of years ago. Instead of going to the tents, we went back to the truck and continued deeper into the desert. My journey to the camp ended up being an all day tour of the valley, which was an unexpected treat.

We drove across the valley and came to a stop in the shadow of a large rock outcrop. The wind and rain had eroded its face in a way that made it look like a multi-tiered cake. Near its base a large tree grew up out of the sand in an unexpected burst of green. Our guide explained that in the canyon there were several old petroglyphs, as well as some old Arabic and Nabatean inscriptions. As he was talking I looked at the imposing rock face. I hadn’t seen the canyon when we pulled up, but it was there, slightly camouflaged by the flowing surface of the rock. We plodded across the sandy patch that separated us from the canyon. The opening in the rock wall was only a few feet wide and it was partially obscured by another bright green bush, but there was a well-trodden path that showed us which way to go. Inside the slot canyon, locally known as a siq, the wind-formed walls towered above us, yet they were so close together that, in some places, we had to walk single file to squeeze through. The beautiful red rock walls and the sandy red path reflected the light in a way that imparted a reddish hue on everything in sight. We ended up finding several rock carvings. The Arabic script was easy to see, but I didn’t have much luck deciphering any of it – It had been years since I had studied the characters and it was clear that I didn’t retain much of what I had learned. The older petroglyphs depicted strange, freeform, human-like figures with small heads, long bodies and wavy arms and legs. I am not sure what they are meant to depict, but I am sure they predated the Islamic times, since depicting human figures in art is not allowed. We spent a while climbing through the canyon and eventually we reached a large step that would have required a bit of climbing to get past. I wanted to keep going, but we had several hours of exploring in the valley still to go. We returned to the truck instead and continued deeper into the desert.

Our next stop was only a short distance away, near another small rock outcrop. There was a large red dune, similar in appearance to the ones in Namibia, though smaller, that had formed against the rock. We all climbed out of the truck and set off to climb the dune. Our guide, wearing his traditional Bedouin robe, posed on the dune for the obligatory Wadi Rum photos and then we all went off on our own to explore. I climbed all the way to the top of the dune, pausing to take several photos along the way. From the top, the stunning desert landscape flowed away from me in every direction. Across the valley, the sheer-walled mountains rose out of the sand like ancient fortresses. Their red faces contrasting deeply with the bright blue sky – It was one of the most stunning landscapes I had ever seen! Our guide clapped his hands and waved us all back to the truck. I ran down the dune, skiing several feet with every footfall. When I got to the bottom my boots were filled with sand, but it had been so much fun that I didn’t care.

We drove for a while before we reached our next destination. As we went we passed through deep sandy dunes where our truck labored to make any headway at all and we bounced our way across rocky, barren stretches of desert. We passed several groups of camels and countless stunning vistas. We eventually came to a stop at the first of three natural stone arches that we were going to see. We spent the next half hour, or so, climbing on the wind-worn rocks and taking photos of the surreal landscape. I found a friendly little lizard that kindly paused long enough to pose for a few photos. The worn nature of the rocks made for great climbing and we all had a lot of fun. After a while we headed back to the truck and continued deeper into the sands of Arabia.

The desert seemed to get more remote and the distance between the different sites got farther apart, not that I minded, because the desert scenery we were driving through was a world-class destination by itself. We drove past several more red dunes and rugged outcrops. At one point we paused briefly to fix a clogged fuel filter after our truck stalled. We paused again at a sheer cliff face, the red stone blackened by time, to look at several more petroglyphs. Ancient camel trains marched across the sands of time in a procession etched in stone long ago – They were very clear carvings that looked as if they had been added to in modern times, but they were beautiful just the same. We only spent a few minutes at the camel pictographs and then we continued on into a somewhat narrow canyon. There we found what looked like an ancient, cut-block stone house that had collapsed in on itself at some point. Our guide explained that the building had been where T.E. Lawrence had lived during the Arab Revolt. It wasn’t clear if Lawrence of Arabia had built the stone structure, or if he had moved into an existing, ancient structure. Either way, the fallen stones had filled the inside of the house with rubble and imparted an ancient feel to the place. At first I found it odd that Lawrence had chosen such a remote place to call home so long ago, but then I remembered that there were no roads to Wadi Rum then and that Rum village had not been established. I imagine the valley was filled with a bustling community of nomadic Bedouin people then and the part of the valley that Lawrence was living in was one of the most picturesque, but sheltered parts of it.

We drove for a while longer and then we stopped in a big shady spot at the mouth of a small, sandy canyon. Our guide pointed across a wide section of the valley to the top of the distant mountain and said, “Burdah Arch”. We had to look carefully to see it, but near the top of the mountain a giant arch spanned a gap in the mountains. It was known as one of the highest natural arches in the world and it was a popular hike/climb to get there. Our guide piled a few pieces of wood he had found into a small pile on the sand and quickly had a fire going. A few minutes later he had some delicious hot tea ready and we sat around the fire and sipped tea and ate our lunches. It was a memorable experience. After lunch I took a few minutes to explore the sandy canyon near where we parked. It narrowed into a gently sloping sand gully, bound by sheer rock faces. Small bushes grew along the rocks and in clumps out in the middle. It felt like I was thousands of miles away from the next person. All was silent and beautiful. I walked around looking for snakes for several minutes and then I heard the handclap that I knew signified that it was time to go.

We got bogged down in some deep sandy patches and we stalled several more times due to the fuel filter. Eventually we found the last of the three arches we were looking for. All of the rocks had made me really want to climb, so I found a narrow cleft in the stone and climbed my way up. One other person followed me and we ended up finding our way to the top of the large arch. It was an exciting, but simple climb to get there and we had a lot of fun. It was clear that the rest of the group was weary from our day of bouncing through the desert. They had all waited near the truck, content with watching our climb. The sun was low in the sky when we pulled back out into the valley proper and started making our way towards camp. We paused at a stunning patch of wind-rippled red sand where we took advantage of the lovely afternoon light and took some photographs. A few minutes later we came to a stop at a large black tent beside a craggy, stone cliff. We had arrived at our Bedouin home for the evening. We gathered our things and then said farewell to our guide as he jumped back into the beast and roared his way back towards town.

We watched the sunset across the Valley of the Moon and then we retired to the goat-hair tent for a huge helping of Bedouin hospitality. We all sat around a roaring fire and we ate an amazing local style meal as we talked and laughed. Later the food went away and the instruments came out. We listened to traditional music and we laughed and sang and danced the night away. The festivities died down with the fire and we all went out into the Arabian night to watch the stars. I had set the camera up on my tripod earlier to try and get a composite star-trail photo. I had snapped a quick shot just as the sun went down on the surrounding rock and then, after darkness set in I turned the camera on again. I left the shutter open for a few hours while we all took in the amazing blanket of stars above us. It was one of the most perfect starscapes I had ever seen. It was bright enough to just make out the surrounding mountains and the sandy dunes, but so dark that we could see every star and satellite without any strain. After we had seen several shooting stars and countless satellites we decided to call it a night. I retrieved my camera and went back to the tent where my warm sleeping bag waited. I positioned my bag so that I was still on the mat floor of the tent, but had a nearly unobstructed view of the stars above. I lay there for a long time contemplating the night sky, but eventually I drifted off to a deep sleep.

I woke up to the smell of the campfire. It was still early and the chill of the night was still in the air. I walked over to the fire and talked with one of the Bedouin men running the camp. We shared some tea and talked for a while and then I set off to watch the sunrise. After breakfast our ride pulled up. In the night the muffler had been replaced and the roar silenced. We had one last cup of tea and then we loaded back into the truck for our quick ride back into town.

I enjoyed my time in Wadi Rum. The Bedouin people were amazingly hospitable and I left wishing that I had more time to spend with them. I still wanted to do so much in the valley. I wanted to explore the valley on the back of a camel and climb to the mountain tops and I wanted to spend a lot more time getting to know the culture of my hosts, but that would have to wait for another time. In Rum village I collected my backpack, found a bus heading in the direction I wanted to go and then I said my farewells to the Valley of the Moon. As I took my seat on the bus I set my mind on my next destination. It was time to walk in the footsteps of Dr. Jones and pay a visit to the Canyon of the Crescent Moon…

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Photos

The Valley of the Moon
Wadi Rum

Sailing to Jordan
The boat that the slightly shady man in Dahab set me up with was an amazing upgrade over the ferry.

Aqaba Castle
This was my favorite part about Aqaba.

Inside Aqaba Castle (2)
Despite being reduced to rubble during the Arab Revolt, the Aqaba Castle is looking great.

Palm Beams
In the castle.

A View From the Ramparts
At Aqaba Castle.

Arches
In Aqaba Castle.

Dark Passages
In Aqaba Castle

Shadows of Aqaba
The Castle's walls.

Nabatean Writing
Our first stop in Wadi Rum

The Beast!
Our un-muffled ride through Wadi Rum.

A Lonely Tree in a Sea of Sand
In Wadi Rum

Looking Through the Eyes of a Beast
Watching Wadi Rum go by from my seat in the ancient Land Cruiser.

The Slot Canyon
The canyon, or siq, was hidden in the contours of the rock, but it was a great place to explore.

In the Siq
Some writing on the walls of the siq in Wadi Rum.

The Siq
In Wadi Rum

Petroglyphs
In Wadi Rum

A Cake
I thought this rock looked like a layer cake or a cave formation - It was lovely.

A Bedouin Man in Wadi Rum
Our guide took a walk across the dune when we first pulled up.

Footprints in the Sands of Arabia
My path up the dune.

A Friendly Lizard
Wadi Rum

A Camel Train
Wadi Rum

A Natural Arch
Wadi Rum

Camel Pictographs
Wadi Rum

A Sandy Track
This is the road we followed in Wadi Rum.

T.E. Lawrence's House
This is where Lawrence of Arabia lived during the Arab Revolt.

Burdah Arch
We ate lunch in a shady spot beneath this arch during our tour of Wadi Rum.

Another Arch in Wadi Rum
I had a lot of fun climbing to the top of this arch.

Ripples in the Sands of Time
Wadi Rum

Our Bedouin Home
I spent a wonderful night under the stars here in Wadi Rum.

Sunset Over the Valley of the Moon
Wadi Rum.

Star Trails
This is a composite image of a few that I took in Wadi Rum at night. The star trails are nice, but it is clear that I need to keep practicing taking them.

Elephant Rock
I gave it the name, but I think it looks just like an elephant.