Cycling in Oman is great! A bit extreme at times; not too many places to buy food and drinks, long distances, a burning hot sun and infinite sandy and rocky planes, but fun, diverse, adventurous and extremely hospitable at the same time.
After spending a couple of days in Salalah, the time had come to ride off again. First a small trip along the coast and in the direction of unvisited Yemen, testing my legs after such a long period of relative rest in Egypt. My legs proved to be strong as ever, and the huge difference in temperature from chilly Cairo didn't seem to trouble my body either.
So, some two days later I left my hotel, mounted my bike in the burning sun and rode off. My initial plan was to continue along the Salalah coastline, all the way up to Mucat. However, since I could not seem to find out if it would be possible to keep going along this road along the rocky cliffs of Hasik, I decided to change this.
In the end this meant I found myself sweating up the green and arid landscape that makes up the steep mountains north of Salalah. These mountains are also the cause of the special climate in this part of the world. Every summer there is a monsoon rain falling down here, the so called khareef. This makes for a very pleaseant and refreshing summer, while the rest of the Arabian peninsula is frying hot. Effect: a lot of marverlous green and the for us Europeans difficult to understand concept of rain tourism.
An other effect is that it makes for the perfect climate for growing a special tree, the Borgdorfelia Sacra. The fluids that this tree produces are harvested twice a year and forms the base for the wonderful smelling natural frankincence. In long gone times this made for an enourmous wealth for everyone lucky enough to own a couple of these trees, as it was quite wanted for all sorts of religious ceremonies, be it close by or far far away. Since the frankincence tree would only grow in this speciffic part of the world and the tracks of the caravans selling it were well-protected by limitless deserts, thus a monopoly was insured.
Suddenly I cross over the green border, and arrive back into the Big Empty. Along the military complexes around Thumrait, a last pertol station and some shops, and that's were my rough desert ride begins.
Along an extremely poor and dusty graded road, gone misty by an incedental passing truck, I ride into a desterted desert. Really, really empty, but full of beautifull nature, and extremely hospitable people. Before I left I had been thinking of all sorts of different strategies incase I would happen to go out of water, but in eventualy I never had to use them. Almost everybody pulls over their vehicile as soon as they see my cycling silouet approach along the horizon, and most refuse to leave before the are absolutely sure there is nothing they can help me with.
At times this goes to extremes, and this alone is enough to show the marvelous hospitality common to Omani people. For months I have been cycling in the Middle East, but never did I experience a hospitality and a willingness to help as I did down here. Bottles of water, cookies and candy-bars are stuffed into my pockets, several times people offer to slaughter and prepare a little lamb to honor me, delicious camel-meat meals, Indian briani rice, spicy curries, huge chunks of fruit, and even some days of complete catering served by PDO (the Omani branch of Shell) employees, which deliver me packed-lunches for several days. Especially without the help of this last group of people it I am sure it would have been a lot more difficult to cross the empty nothingness between Thumrait, Marmul and Haytam.
In the meanwhile, the wind keeps troubling me. For days on end I work like a bull, for making just the slightest progress. One night I am so exhausted I fall asleep at a busstop, but on most others I battle in the open emptiness to manouver my tent into position using some heavy rocks as support. Sand and dust is everywhere, and my stove has stopped working for once and forever, so diner consists of dry bread and chickpeas, and some dates for desert.
I am quite amazed to find out the desert is quite a wet place, and is buzzing with life. Every morning my tent is covered with an enourmous amount of dew drops, and at nights the immidiate surroundings it are crowded with ants and dung-beattles running around, accompanied by many of their other animal friends. One time I even bear witness of a real rainstorm, which causes me to cheers with enthousiasm the next morning while racing through the puddles it created.
However empty and boring it seems to be, the desert is quite a beautifull place. Sand comes in all colours of the rainbow, and varies from soft and dusty to big rough rocky stones. In the meanwhile there are wadis with small oases, camels and goats running around seemigly lost, bedouin women wearing masks with eye holes cut out in the style of old 1980's sun-glasses, or models more resembling a copy used in the Phantom of the Opera, old men with deeply-wrinkeld faces, unlimited rest and silence, real darkness when it is supposed to be dark outside, and only the light of milions of stars to change that.
After over two weeks of almost continious riding, I arrive to Masirah, an island near the eastern coasts of Oman. Rough and deserted, and actually riding right along the sea for once, I enjoy private beaches and wonderfull smelling valleis, easy asfalt, and techical sand roads. Unfortunately I arrive just a couple of weeks early to witness one of world's largest populations of sea-turtles climbing to the beach for laying their eggs.
Once in Sinaw, the first town of sizes I arrive to in weeks, the desert finally comes to an end, and over nice hills and between enourmous date gardens, I cycle up (and down again) for reaching Muscat. Once there, wonderfull Kate and Greg, whom invited me to their place through Hospitality Club give me a warm welcome. It gives me a great opportunity to just relax for a couple of days, after spending so much time in the harsh and seemingly endless deserts. Once again lots and lots of PDO employees, and besides that Kate even offers me to take me for a dive!
Every beautifull sea-creature I have been eating for the last weeks, comes swimming along me alive and kicking, accompanied by loads of other underwater specials. A huge Matra Ray, a multitude of Murray Eels and much, much more, this place truly is a diver's paradise!
Planning to meet my cycling-friends Freek and Abel in Iran, I leave for Dubai at a high speed a couple of days later. Half cycling, half hitching along more date gardens and a reasonaby busy road I head north, a sudden change of direction from my usual path east.
To keep it short, Dubai isn't exactly my kind of town. Gruf faces, closed personalities, a limitless competition in almost every possible way, the how-do-i-get-rich-as-soon-as-possible mentality, extremely busy and anti-social driving, high, glass and concrete skyskrapers: too many contrasts to the so much more friendly Omanis and their country. Nevertheless I get a superb welcome by Desiree and Elouise and their frends, and get the opportunity to marel at crazy sights such as the indoor skislope (right in the middle of the desert) and the Burj al-Arab, the only seven-star hotel in the world.
Because the Iranians are celebrating their two week No Ruz holidays, the local ferry company has decided to suspend all boats for the time being, so eventually the only remaining option to get to Shiraz in time is by taking an airplane. At the time of writing I have lived through numerous Iranian adventures already, but those will have to wait for the next newsletter..
