Another Weekend Escape - 3,300 kms Driven!
Day 1
Salalah, a verdant enclave trapped between a scorching expanse of desert and the Indian Ocean, is an alluring holiday destination for many Gulf Arabs. With daytime temperatures rarely above 30 degrees Celsius, Saudis, Bahrainis, Kuwaitis, Qataris and Emiratis all descend in their thousands during the Khareef (Monsoon) season to escape the summer heat at home, and to marvel at the rolling pastures and forest clad mountains.
Dhofar also vies with Yemen for the residence of the Queen of Sheba, who Dhofaris claim resided in a cliff top fortress at Samharan, not far from Salalah. The abundance of frankincense trees in the region, and the idyllic situation of the fort, perched above a natural harbour, in any case tends to encourage one towards the romantic notion that the fort had once been a bustling center of trade, with merchant ships being filled with celestial aromas and camel trains setting of into the misty mountains braced for the hard journey across the expanse of nothingness further north.
We set off from Dubai with these delicious memories of prior visits, at about 6pm, as usual having filled the truck to the gunnels. Pizza to go; a painless border crossing; fortifying tea at the Rainbow Restaurant at the Salalah turning in Ibri; and we were soon making good progress. The further inland we drove, the more bearable the temperature became, and we finally halted for the night at "Bullet Hill" a large sand dune which forms part of the only chain of dunes which cross the endlessly flat terrain of the Salalah road.
Our journey was now about halfway complete, and the increasing humidity indicated that we had crossed the peninsula and were on our way back towards the ocean, and especially towards the influence of the Khareef. We were greeted in the morning by rolling clouds of fog, which were unfortunately soon dissipated, and temperatures began to rise again.
Day 2
We rejoined the road and were glad that we had completed the night time section of our journey when we did. As the morning wore on, the increasingly treacherous potholes at least provided some entertainment and a few hairy moments to keep all passengers awake, but getting through this latter half of the road at night without smacking an axle or puncturing a tire would certainly have been an achievement.
Past Thumrayt the road is much improved and even dual carriageway in parts, with the section descending into Salalah still being worked on. Judging by the enormous scar being cut into the mountainside, the government is intent on reducing the number of casualties of this steep, slippery and foggy descent.
Road worn and tired, we arrived in Salalah in the mid afternoon, in need of a good wash, a strong cup of tea, and excited at the change of scenery. However, unbeknown to us, the zip on our trusty Bushranger rack sack, which we had strapped onto the rooftop tent, had come loose sometime after our final petrol stop resulting in the loss of a dome tent, no doubt assisted on its way by a pesky pothole. Bearing in mind our plan to camp at least one night in the Dhofar region, some form of protection against the unrelenting dampness would need to be found.
After extensive debate as to the likely timings of the few shops which might possibly be open in Salalah in the afternoon in Ramadan (and stock tents) the excursion party initially returned empty handed. More successful later in the evening, they returned with a very smart looking dome tent which professed to be capable of housing five adults lying down and ten sitting. Although the Dhofaris are not a particularly tall folk, and their goats and cows tend towards the dwarfish, we though the Chinese manufacturer of the tent was nevertheless being a little optimistic and had perhaps discounted the likelihood of their tent becoming a temporary residence for a large dutch fellow.
Day 3
Having re-discovered the joys of modern plumbing it was (more or less) unanimously decided that Day Three would be a day, rather than overnight, trip.
Our intentions to leave the house early were overcome by the soft mattresses and caressing breeze of the AC. Eventually the picnic was packed and passengers shoehorned back into the belly of the beast and we managed to leave around 11am.
We took the coastal route west past the blow holes at Mughsail, with the intention of completing a large loop into the mountains before heading back to Salalah, getting as close to the Yemeni border as the authorities would allow.
Our Salalah based companions took the lead initially and we followed them off the main road down towards the beach. The steep muddy track lead us down onto a lush green coastal plateau with fantastic beaches. Unfortunately the Khareef waves make swimming too dangerous for many months along the Dhofar coastline, but nevertheless we enjoyed watching the waves swirling around the rocks jutting out of the foamy water.
On our way down the track we had narrowly missed a bright green chameleon who had decided to take a rest in the middle of the track. We walked back to where he was sitting to get a closer look and he duly treated us to a display of his abilities by clambering up into a nearby bush and adapting himself to his new environment by turning from a bright green to a mottled brown to match the trunk.
Having had our fill of sea air, we turned back up the track into the mists looking for a good viewpoint where we would be able to stop for lunch. We found an idyllic spot with a view dropping down onto the forest below and the sea as the backdrop, and hauled coolboxes and rugs through the tall grass. It wasn't long before it became clear that our idyllic spot was in fact infested with midges (or "midgets" according to one of our party). A feeding frenzy ensued with us humans wolfing down our sandwiches, and the midges also enjoying a good feed involving something other than their staple camel blood diet.
Nevertheless, the experience proved useful for two reasons: A. We learnt that it is probably more comfortable to sleep on a bed of nails than to camp in Dhofar in a wooded area during the rainy season. B. There is a reason why the Australians have those funky mosquito net room attachments for their awnings. Needless to say one of those contraptions is now part of the Bling My Truck inventory.
Fed and watered, we turned back onto the main road. The further inland we drove the warmer and more desolate it became. Within the space of a few kilometers the lush wooded hills grew barren and dry, with barely any vegetation in sight.
Our initial intention had been to reach a small enclave of Oman which stretches across into Yemen called Habrut, but unfortunately our morning laziness meant that we were advised by a friendly guard at one of the frequent military checkpoints that we would not reach our intended destination before nightfall. Although it was not the guard's intention to discourage us, stories of carjackings by Yemeni bandits also deterred us from driving so close to the border at night, so we turned east again reaching the tarmac at Mudayy, and then making the descent back into Salalah in time for dinner.
Day 4
Fortified by an enormous cooked breakfast, we said goodbye to our salubrious lodgings, and this time headed east down the cost with the intention of cutting a section off the journey back north, by crossing the mountains further east towards Barbazum and re-joining the Oman coastal road, which currently only reaches Hasik on the Salalah side of the mountains.
We left the coastal plain and cut up into the mountains on the road towards Tawi Atayr and stopped for lunch on Jebel Samhan, with a spectacular view across the plain stretching towards the sea beneath us.
To Barbazum or not to Barbazum ...?
After lunch we progressed without trouble through a number of military checkpoints until we finally reached the road which would take us to Barbazum and back to the interior of Oman. We had heard of a group who had taken this track in the opposite direction just a few weeks previously, and we were therefore surprised when the guard initially looked skeptically at our Ford F150, questioning its capabilities. Strangely the merits of the Ford were extolled by a passing Omani in his Toyota Land Cruiser pickup, who had just tackled this supposedly tricky thoroughfare, and things seemed to be looking positive. Unfortunately the chief guard chose this moment to come out and see what the discussion was about, took one look at our Dubai license plate and told us that the road was for "Omanis only". Since we had better things to do than argue with a gentleman who carries a loaded machine gun we turned around and headed back west along the top of the mountains to join the usual tarmac route inland at Thumrayt, but not without many mumblings and much remeniscing about difficult roads conquered in the past.
It wasn't long before we were back on the desolate, barren, and dry wasteland behind the mountains that stretches on for an infinity. As we drove closer to the oil producing region near Marmul, the forest of nodding donkeys grew denser and their slow pendulous motion did little to help us stay awake. With the sun falling in the sky we were happy when the road finally came to the edge of the escarpment and broke through down onto the plain below.
We didn't have much light to allow us to search long for a campsite, so we quickly surveyed the beach and chose a small hollow which seemed a little sheltered from the strong sea wind and spray.
Determined to have a warm and wind free evening, the boys set about building a monumental fireplace, under the supervision of our expert golf course designer (don't try this one at home ...).
Nevertheless, the sea spray being driven up the beach by the strong Khareef winds meant the dampness was unrelenting, and most of us were quite happy to crawl into our relatively dry tents soon after dinner.
Day 5
Refreshed, after a night of breathing bracing sea air, we struggled out of the dry comfort of our tents. The sun tried to burn off the clamminess of the night before, but nevertheless the air remained humid, making it a bit cool. We whipped out the trusty Coleman stove to boil some hot water for teas and coffees, and waited for things to dry off a bit before packing up.
We briefly continued along the coastal road in the Salalah direction until we reached the road works which have begun to extend the road all the way to Salalah. Building this new section of road across the cliffs must be extremely challenging, although the Omanis do seem to have developed quite a talent for getting roads through tricky places.
We turned around and made our way to the other end of the coastal plain, where there is a large house, apparently belonging to a member of one of the ruling families in the GCC. A narrow track leads along the base of the cliff behind the house, past a small harbour where the fishermen let their boats into the water. We stopped to admire the crashing waves and managed to spot over a dozen turtles playing in the surf.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t make time to explore the area further and headed back up the escarpment and wound our way through the fields of nodding donkeys back to the main Salalah – Muscat highway.
We stopped for lunch under the abandoned derrick of Oman’s first oil well, Haima 1, on the long road home and surprisingly the crisscross shade of the steel girders provided a lot of relief from the sun. We carried on towards Dubai, stopping for parathas and strong tea at the Rainbow Restaurant in Ibri, finally arriving home not long before midnight.
Cars on the trip: Ford F150 (petrol / gas), Toyota Prado (diesel) - Day 3 onwards.
Total distance driven: 3,350 km