We started the day with some beachcombing. Sarah likes to collect rocks and shells whenever she visits a beach.
I spotted a couple of rather large-rumped fish, swimming about in the shallows of the retreating tide. I wish I could have got a closer look at them, but I was lucky even to spot them in the first place.
We then drove into Sur for a look around.
First of all, we passed down the very attractive corniche, then on to the jetty to see the dhows left high and dry on the mudbanks, the village of Ayajh behind them on the other side of the water.
An old man was willing to take us out in his small boat for a couple of rials, so we went with him and viewed the bay from the water. Ayajh’s three watchtowers and lighthouse are very impressive and were doubtless invaluable back in their day.
After some lunch at the oddly and unappealingly named Turkish Sheep Restaurant (which isn’t Turkish and serves no mutton; in fact, it has no menu, but they’ll prepare decent Indian food for you), we had to speed out of town towards Al Qabil, which was where we were due to be picked up for our Desert Discovery trip.
Once there, we were met by a thickly-accented South African chap, who led the way in his car towards Wahiba Sands. We turned right into the desert, at which point he bolted away from us over the sand, setting a pace I couldn’t hope to match with my lack of sand-driving skills.
We soon reached the site of the camp, but first a steep dune had to be negotiated before we would be at the tents. My first attempt failed and we had to roll back down the dune, back to a good distance from which to retry the approach. On my second attempt, we charged with much greater speed and power and this time managed to reach the top.
We signed in at the main tent and were assigned a chalet: a king-size bed and a flushing toilet, here in the middle of the desert! We’re impressed.
At 16:30, we went out for some dune driving. I didn’t want the hassle of letting a load of air out of our tyres (necessary to avoid getting stuck in the fine sand) or putting our hire car at risk (I’m pretty sure we’re not insured for dune-bashing), so we tagged along with the Desert Discovery lead vehicle rather than take our own. The driver, Abdullah, is a true Bedouin and knows the terrain here like the back of his hand.
At first, I regretted my decision not to personally drive, as careering over the dunes was obviously a lot of fun, but after a few frankly astounding manoeuvres on the part of our driver, Abdullah, I realised that we were getting the most spectacular ride of anyone in the group.
We hammered up and down dunes, sideways across them, down into ditches and up again to the crests of these golden, sandy waves.
Many times, I thought there was nowhere left for us to go, the only path in front of us a suicidally steep descent or an impossibly uneven patch of ground. In all such cases, Abdullah revved up the car and blasted us up or over whichever obstacle happened to be in our way. Several times I thought we might tip over, but we never did. What a driver!
Even if I had been driving and had managed to mimick Abdullah’s every move, Sarah would have been terrified. As it was, she implicitly trusted this perfect stranger, as he had grown up amongst these dunes.
The modern Bedouin may still trade camels, but he drives a 4×4 to get from A to B. None of their cars are insured, either, as the only time they are taken onto a public road is when their owners sneak into town to fill them up with petrol.
We stopped several times during the dune drive, the final time to watch the sun set over the mountains. As soon as the sun was gone, a dust storm kicked up, triggered by the change in the temperature of the air.
The sand in the desert is amazing. It’s so fine that it’s almost like liquid, as fine as dust, and nothing like the sand you find on even the most finely grained beach. In fact, the grains are so miniscule that each footstep leaves behind a perfect print, from which even the text of the logo from the sole of the shoe can be read. Yes, you can actually tell which make of shoe people are wearing from the footprints made in these sands.
We headed back to camp and chatted to a few of our fellow visitors. Most of them were either expats or the visiting friends or family of expats. It seems to be a very popular place for such foreign workers to bring visiting family.
Most people we talked to had been here multiple times before. In fact, we didn’t meet a single non-resident tourist here.
Dinner was served at 19:00 and was delicious. Afterwards, a live band of Bedu musicians regaled us with their highly percussive music. Eloïse danced along to the music and enjoyed herself immensely.
The atmosphere was wonderful. Everyone was having a great time and the mood was electric. Many different nationalities and cultures were represented here, from Swedish to Omani, New Zealander to Indian.
All too soon, however, the party was over and we were all back in our chalets and tents, waiting for the generator to be switched off for the night.
As we undressed Eloïse, we noticed that her nappy was full of sand. Ouch! She’d been playing happily in the stuff, but we hadn’t realised that the sand might find its way that far inside. Fortunately, she hadn’t been rubbed raw by it.