When it comes to whimsical castles and forts, Oman offers beauty that could have been lifted straight from the pages of a fairytale. With that in mind, you simply can’t visit without stopping in at Jabrin Castle. Located among the palm-fringed foothills of the Jebel Akhdar highlands, the beautifully preserved 17th-century castle – built by Imam Bil’arab bin Sultan of the Yaruba dynasty – has long been a revered institute for learning. Wander through its central courtyard and dip into one of the hundreds of hidden rooms adorned with intricately painted ceilings among its labyrinth of archways and watchtowers. If you’re up for the challenge, set out to discover Bil’arab bin Sultan’s crypt – an atmospheric final resting place with carved vaults and the gentle bubbling of the falaj (water channel) flowing below.
Can’t get enough? Just five kilometres from here is the striking Bahla Fort. A fortress of astounding proportions, it is not only the oldest (built some 800 years ago by the Banu Nebhan tribe), but also the largest of its kind in Oman. Its stone foundations and surrounding 11 kilometres of fortified unbaked mud-brick walls, and the edifices within it, are thought to be among the finest Omani architecture of the medieval period. However, its disintegration over the years meant it was almost lost to the sands of time, that is until it was inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1987 – the only fort to be awarded such a title in the entire country. In the following two decades the site was restored to its former glory, before finally reopening to the public in 2012.
There’s little in the way of tourist information or exhibit displays, which means you’ll have to do your homework before you arrive, but it also leaves your mind free to wonder and imagine the various histories that took place among Bahla’s twisted alleyways, souqs and within the alcoves of its sand-coloured walls.
Constructed using stone hand-cut from surrounding mountains, Alila Jabal Akhdar blends sophisticated comfort with rugged terrain and Omani tradition. Perched over a gorge at 2000 metres above sea level, this new and sumptuous addition to Oman’s landscape offers sweet relief from the heat of the capital, a two-hour drive away. The aroma of frankincense drifts through the cool air, and afternoon cocktails are swilled on a deck overlooking an infinity pool. Day tours take guests into the heart of the Hajar Mountains to explore lush valleys of pomegranate, walnut and apricot trees, discover mud-brick houses crumbling into the hills, and wander terraced gardens scented with sweet pink roses.
If you live and breathe art you will do both happily at the XVA Hotel in Dubai, an understated boutique property in a city usually associated with excess.
This triple threat – it’s a hotel, vegetarian cafe and one of the best contemporary art galleries in the city – is located in the Al Fahidi historical neighbourhood, with its Persian architecture and snaking alleyways. The 13 guest rooms, arranged around shady courtyards where guests relax sipping mint lemonade, were once part of a home that was painstakingly restored over a four-year period by owner Mona Hauser.
It’s not a great start. I’ve allowed 90 minutes for our convoy of cars to travel from Dubai, on the United Arab Emirates’ west coast, to Dibba, a small port on the opposite coast, just across the border inside the Omani enclave of Musandam. But traffic congestion heading out of town means we arrive at the port almost two hours late.
Our 14-strong group has been looking forward to Al Marsa Musandam’s two-night dhow cruise alongside the rugged peninsula all week, so the delay has tested our patience. By the time we actually board, excitement has given way to relief.
That phase passes the moment we dump our bags in our ensuite cabins. One by one we find our way to the top deck, where banana lounges and deck chairs point towards the bow. Bottles of wine and beer are opened and the sea breeze begins to work its magic. This, we all agree, is closer to how we imagined the weekend to pan out.
The Musandam Peninsula’s heavily indented coastline measures roughly 650 kilometres. Mountain peaks reaching heights of more than 2000 metres plummet into the Persian Gulf on one side and the Gulf of Oman on the other. The two bodies of water meet at the tip of the peninsula, where they squeeze through a slender passage separating this part of Oman from Iran. At its narrowest, this choke point – known as the Strait of Hormuz – is just 34 kilometres wide.
For thousands of years, this strait has formed part of a busy sea trade route connecting the Indian subcontinent to the Middle East and beyond to the Mediterranean. For that reason, the Musandam Peninsula is valued as a strategic commercial and military stronghold. It’s also an area that’s brimming with dramatic scenery. Comparisons have been made with Norway’s fjord system, although the Scandinavian version is certainly greener than the arid country on offer here.
There’s no way we can possibly sail around the entire peninsula in just 48 hours, so I ask Al Marsa’s Ziad Al Sharabi if we can make it as far as Kumzar, the isolated fishing village at the tip of the peninsula.
“We can’t get there. It’s too far and the currents are too strong,” he says. “The people are also very conservative. They don’t really like strangers walking around taking photos.”
Ziad instead maps out an itinerary that will take us north along the east coast for four hours, travelling through moonlit darkness to Sheesa Bay. He promises we will wake inside the sheltered headlands of Ras Qabr Hindi and Ras Khaysa, where we’ll be surrounded by jagged peaks whose twisted and contorted cliff faces will look as though they’ve been torn from the pages of a geology textbook. From Sheesa Bay, we’ll follow the contours of the coast – more slowly this time – back to Dibba. Along the way we’ll anchor in various locations to snorkel, dive or swim.
It’s well after 9pm when we set off from Dibba. Clear skies and calm waters mean there is little risk of seasickness, and the boat’s gentle sway is hypnotically comforting. Many are lulled to sleep, either below deck in their cabins or on the banana lounges up top.
Al Marsa’s dhows always tow tenders behind them for shore excursions and to ferry divers and snorkellers to exotic undersea locations. But when we wake in a cove inside Sheesa Bay the next morning, ours is gone.
Our dive master, Abdul Karim, tells us not to panic. There are only two divers on board our dhow, he says, so another crew has seconded our boat to accommodate the greater number of underwater adventurers on board their vessel.
“A replacement will arrive soon from Dibba,” he tells us, “so we will wait here until then. But this is an excellent place for snorkelling, where the currents aren’t dangerous.”
After 26 years in the Royal Navy of Oman, Abdul Karim knows a thing or two about the reefs in these parts. It’s been just 12 months since he handed in his resignation, so it’s fair to say he’s devoted most of his adult days to being in the water. “I’m like a dolphin,” he says. “If I don’t dive at least once a week, I become agitated.”
And waiting around is no problem. Since it’s our first morning, we’re happy to spend it snorkelling, napping, reading and diving from the top deck into the water. Dolphins swim off the bow and a sea turtle surfaces shortly after.
Captain Dilip signals a crew member to pull up the anchor soon after lunch. He motors north through Sheesa Bay to Red Island, a spectacular and protected mooring inside an extinct caldera.
Each of us jumps in the water, either to snorkel or to explore the island, where a beach covered in shells and broken coral connects two rocky bluffs. Just offshore, hard and soft corals cling to a gently sloping reef heavily populated with spotted starfish. Large schools of mackerel swim past with mouths agape and parrotfish gnaw away at the corals. Angelfish, butterflyfish, surgeonfish and damsels scout around the periphery, and shy groupers peer out through rocky crevices. A sea eagle hovers above.
As the sun sinks beneath the peninsula’s sawtooth ridgeline, Captain Dilip is once again at the bridge, setting a southerly course towards Ras Sakkan. We anchor inside the safe haven of Khor Qabal, wondering why we’d bypassed the bigger Khor Habalayn, the peninsula’s widest and longest inlet. Abdul Karim says it would take us six hours to reach its furthest point. “And it’s no good for snorkelling,” he adds. “There’s too much sand.”
In Khor Qabal, we’re wrapped inside a natural amphitheatre of sharp peaks. As we sit down for dinner, the temperature is ideal and the night sky twinkles and flashes with a million stars. Had the moon not been close to full, they would have been even more spectacular.
We were all too exhausted to savour our evening meal the previous day but this time it’s different. The mood is festive and there’s plenty to laugh about as we swap stories across the dining table. The only time we’re silent is when Abdul Karim outlines the following day’s excursion. Because of our forced layover that morning, the crew has planned a day packed with activity, he tells us.
“We’ll see everything that’s detailed on the itinerary, and more,” Karim says. “And as a treat we’ll take you into Lima village, where you can all have a walk around.”
I rise early, just as the sun begins to warm the peninsula’s spine. Others in the group eventually join me on deck and the late risers trickle up top when Captain Dilip warms up the engine.
Barely a word is muttered as we exit Khor Qabal. Shaded valleys form long dark lines tumbling towards the water from creviced peaks shrouded in mist. Far below, seabirds plunge headfirst towards shoals of leaping fish that splash against the glassy surface like raindrops. It’s an entrancing view.
The two divers in our group, husband and wife Paul and Anna Egan, board the dive boat for the short commute to Octopus Rock and we leave them behind to continue on to Lima Bay. There, when we’re anchored beneath bare cliffs inside a cove, we eat breakfast on the top deck. Before we’ve finished dining, the divers are motoring towards us.
“That was brilliant,” says Paul, as the two of them join us. “The best dive I’ve ever done.”
“The rock you can see above the surface is like an iceberg – only a small part of what’s beneath,” adds Anna. “It broadens below the surface, getting thicker deeper down. And bits have broken off it, leaving behind some big gullies and terraces where heaps of fish hide.”
After our morning meal, we all squeeze into the dive boat to rush towards terra firma. Like Kumzar and a handful of other villages sprinkled along this peninsula, Lima is accessible only by sea. With 4000 inhabitants, it is the largest and boasts the type of facilities found in highway towns. There’s a hospital, school and police station – it even has sealed roads so that the school bus can collect students from farming communities located further inland, in dry valleys known locally as wadis.
From our boat, date palm plantations resemble mini oases against the town’s craggy backdrop. Fishermen with heavily lined faces repair nets on the volcanic black-sand beach and goats appear to have the run of the town – they’re scattered by roadsides, against walls and even perched up trees.
Abdul Karim arranges a brief tour on the school bus of the wadi. We stop to collect a hitchhiking desalination plant worker, and again to ogle a venomous snake slain by a villager with whom it had the misfortune of crossing paths. We then head back to the port to reboard our dhow.
The sun feels hotter away from the water and we’re keen to cool off when we return. While the divers make a beeline for Lima Rock, the rest of us don masks and snorkels to swim alongside the narrow isthmus of Ras Lima. The highlight this time is seeing a good-sized eagle ray resting on a sandy patch of seabed.
The two divers are again wide-eyed when they catch up with us and they scroll through photographs of electric rays, moray eels and lionfish near the surface, and of reef sharks deeper down.
“That dive was frightening,” confesses Anna. “The current pulled us along – it was pointless trying to fight it. We saw a turtle and tried to follow it, but the current just dragged us away.”
We sail around Ras Lima towards Ras Kaha’af. The richly coloured turquoise water between the two headlands signals a sandy seabed, but the darker shades around the fringes hint at a reef. It looks like another promising spot for snorkelling until Abdul Karim suggests we accompany him in the tender to a sea cave around the corner. He navigates through a gaping hole encrusted with barnacles and we slide into the water.
Pufferfish drift in the currents and batfish and jackfish shoal together in the shadows. Sea snails with fluorescent body markings cling to the rocks. The biggest creatures, however, are those below us – the divers, whose air bubbles leave a trail behind them as they disappear beneath a deep rock ledge.
As we sail back to Dibba – and the thought of once again having to deal with the traffic on the road back to Dubai – we begin to reminisce about our days on board the dhow. The divers and snorkellers each rave about their experiences and everyone feels significantly more at ease than when they first boarded.
Without exception we agree on one thing, and that is that two nights was not enough. A week would have been better.
Sadly, many of the countries surrounding it are completely off limits for travellers these days, but anyone interested in the ancient world or a more modern Middle East can still explore Jordan.
No doubt, most visitors head straight for Petra, the incredible pink city built by the Nabataeans in about 300BC and undiscovered by explorers from the western world until 1812. For ancient history buffs, however, there are plenty of other impressive architectural sites, including the Umm Al-Jimal Ruins near the Syrian border, with about 150 buildings still visible, and the 2000-year-old Greco-Roman city of Jerash. Even the capital Amman boasts Roman ruins among its mosques, malls and cafes.
Go 4WDing to Wadi Rum, an amazing red landscape of rock formations and riverbeds, before sleeping under the stars at one of the camps. There’s hiking to be done at the Wadi Mujiz canyon, and reefs to be explored at Aqaba on the Red Sea, Jordan’s only resort town.
Flames flare across a pit of boiling mud in the heart of Turkmenistan’s Karakum Desert. Derweze, or the ‘door to hell’ as locals know it, is a glowing 70-metre-wide sinkhole and a sinister legacy to gas mining.
The crater formed when the ground beneath a rig collapsed as Soviet geologists drilled for resources in one of the largest natural gas reserves in the world. The pit devoured the machinery and methane gushed into the air, threatening a nearby village. To truncate the flow, geologists set the deposit alight, assuming it would burn off in several days. Fed by rich natural gas, the fire continues to burn decades later.
The roiling Rub’ al-Khali desert stretches into the distant heat haze like an animated orange sea. It climbs and dives – all Arabesque curves and belly dancer sways – as impulsive and changing as the elements that shape it. Translated as the Empty Quarter, the Rub’ al-Khali is the largest sand desert in the world. Its sculpted dunes and arid plains gobble up the Arabian Peninsula and form a nebulous border between Saudi Arabia, Oman, the United Arab Emirates and Yemen.
If happenstance finds you wandering the Rub’ al-Khali in the midday sun do this: first sack your travel agent, then wee on your shirt, wrap it tightly around your head and stagger ever westwards with steely determination. If the Bear Grylls Desert Cleanse doesn’t appeal, best to ride out the heat of the day in an opulent oasis like the Qasr Al Sarab Resort, nestled in the dunes two hours from Abu Dhabi. The resort will have you experiencing the best of the desert action without risking life and limb. Well, almost…
Dawn and dusk are the only times to appreciate the Rub’ al-Khali up close. And so we rise in the half-light and assemble bleary-eyed in the resort library. We’re assigned drivers and vehicles and charge off down a road that quickly becomes a track and then a sand-flat. Soon we’re travelling fast and rolling with the undulations of the dunes, clinging on for dear life in the back of a 4WD. Sheets of orange sand spray over the vehicle like rusty snow as we’re expertly guided over a yawning precipice. We lean sideways into a controlled drift – engine roaring, hearts pumping – and charge down its vertiginous decline. It’s still early but I am very much awake.
Dune bashing captures the flipside of the UAE experience. It is modern, fast-paced and flirts with western decadence. Among many other things, Abu Dhabi is famous for Formula One and for having the fastest rollercoaster in the world. Our Pakistani driver seems a fan of both as he floors it through the dunes.
An action-packed hour later we stop on a ridge for tea and dates as the sun peeks over the horizon in nearby Saudi Arabia. My bearings, rarely in mint condition, have abandoned me. I hazard a guess that we must be close to nowhere. “Welcome to the Empty Quarter. And now you walk back,” jokes our guide.
Dusk makes a welcome arrival on the arid cusp of the Arabian Peninsula. In Abu Dhabi the desert sun dims and is replaced by twinkling neon and the promise of night.
Wealthy Emiratis leave their air-conditioned apartments to stroll the Corniche boardwalk overlooking the Persian Gulf. The men flow in white dishdashas (robes), while the women – all ankles and eyes – flaunt colourful stilettos beneath jet-black abayas. There is the sweet smell of apple-scented shisha wafting from alfresco cafes, while the mosques, malls, bars and restaurants draw disparate crowds from all over the world. Western travellers blend seamlessly into this cosmopolitan scene but can be identified by uncertain gaits and thirsty gills. Things are undoubtedly happening in this charged metropolis. But where is the Abu Dhabi action?
5pm
Cocktail hour is best delayed if you’re seeking the best from this devoutly Muslim city. Undoubtedly the city’s grandest and most iconic landmark is the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. Named after the modern-day father of the UAE – who is buried beneath – the dazzling white, 82-domed mosque is comparable to India’s Taj Mahal for its breath-stealing grandeur and lavish detailing. Inspired by Persian and Moorish architecture, it utilises premium materials from across the world and can accommodate 40,000 worshippers. The mosque is especially beautiful at sundown and is worth the detour. Entry is free and it’s open to the public every day except Friday. Dress conservatively (no shorts or skirts). Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque Centre 5th Street szgmc.ae
6pm
A short taxi ride away you can revel in the stark contrasts for which the UAE is known. The Saadiyat Beach Club sprawls languidly by the gin-clear Gulf, all poolside cabanas, fruity cocktails and sun-worshipping patrons. Bikinied Westerners with cosmetically enhanced outlines lounge by the water, while Emiratis in traditional attire sip minted tea nearby. Popular with expats, the club offers exclusive facilities for members, but day guests are welcome to visit the restaurants and bars. Turtles and dolphins are said to frequent the nearby waters – in fact, you could be in the Caribbean. Saadiyat can turn into a party scene on select nights, in which case you’ll be hard-pressed to leave, but the night is young. Saadiyat Beach Club Sheikh Khalifa Highway saadiyatbeachclub.ae
7pm
Saadiyat Island is in the midst of transforming into a globally significant cultural hub. By 2020 the formerly deserted sand patch is scheduled to be covered in luxury apartments and leisure facilities that will share a postcode with a number of iconic art museums, including a Louvre and a Guggenheim. Get a taste of what’s in store at the Manarat Al Saadiyat (Place of Enlightenment), which tells the history of Abu Dhabi and showcases its grand vision for a highbrow future that will distinguish it from nearby Dubai. Build it and they will come seems to be the philosophy underpinning the city’s post-oil future. Manarat Al Saadiyat Sheikh Khalifa Highway E12 saadiyatculturaldistrict.ae
8pm
Ready to be treated like actual royalty? Direct your ride to the Emirates Palace Hotel and be prepared to be dazzled. Abu Dhabi is not short of flash hotels, but this palatial seven-star wonderland is a tourist attraction in its own right. Gold and marble are used liberally throughout the sprawling, kilometre-long construction in a design motif that matches grandeur with opulence. Non-guests are welcome to wander slack-jawed beneath its 144 domes or loiter near the gold-dispensing ATM. Better still, the hotel has a royal abundance of cafes, bars and restaurants and most are open to the public. Reserve a table outside at Hakkasan for a dazzling view of the city and a gorgeous modern Chinese meal you won’t soon forget. Hakkasan Abu Dhabi Emirates Palace Hotel hakkasan.com
9.30pm
For a more traditional experience and something sweet, try Le Boulanger, an alfresco cafe overlooking the water on the nearby Corniche. You can’t buy booze here but not buying booze is very much the local custom. Instead locals crowd around tables, drink coffee, talk into the night and take turns coaxing scented tobacco through water-cooled hookah pipes. Shisha is a mixture of tobacco leaves flavoured with molasses or honey and mixed with glycerine so that it heats evenly and doesn’t burn. A one-hour shisha session combined with sweet local coffee, two or three sticky baklavas and a pink cube of Turkish delight and you will be authentically abuzz and ready for some nightlife proper. Le Boulanger Marina Village
Cornich Road
10.30pm
If Abu Dhabi were a drink it would be a mocktail served in ornate crystal. The conspicuously wealthy city pulses with designer labels, soaring high-rises, blingy architecture and customised sports cars. It’s the sort of place a stubby of VB would be asked to leave on aesthetic grounds. Ray’s Bar on the 62nd floor of the Jumeirah Etihad Towers doesn’t stock blue-collar Aussie beer, but its expert barmen can mix up just about anything else. The spectacular views from Ray’s across the twinkling city explain why Abu Dhabi has been compared to Manhattan. The service is professional, the lighting atmospheric and the drinks tall, dark and expensive. It’s a good place to meet friendly expats, dig the view and the glamour and suss out where to hit next. Ray’s Bar Jumeirah Etihad Towers West Corniche Road jumeirah.com
11.30pm
Ladies’ nights are a big deal in Abu Dhabi. They usually happen on a Wednesday and hinge on a tried-and-tested nightclub formula. Entice the female of the species and the men will follow with hungry eyes and open wallets. It’s a sign of how new the drinking culture is in Abu Dhabi that free drinks for the women are A) allowed, and B) don’t end in Caligula-style debauchery. Deep inside Emirates Palace is Etoiles nightclub. Here, you’ll find DJs playing mid-tempo beats as the club slowly fills with women and their admirers. Drink, mingle and have a dance, but don’t linger too late as there’s more ladies’ night action to be had. Etoiles Emirates Palace Hotel
West Cornishe Road facebook.com/etoilesclub
1am
Lift-off arrives at Pearls & Caviar, a chic open-air bar with water views across to the distant Grand Mosque. Pheromones mix with designer scents and acrid tobacco smoke on a crowded dance floor. At last you’ve found some genuine party people and a DJ tuned to the tribal mind. The city’s reputation for tolerance will be tested by a posse of bumping and grinding expats, barely attired ‘ladies’ and a Busta Rhymes decree for the dance floor to “make it clap”. Clearly so much has changed and so quickly in this newly minted city. Forty years ago it was a fishing village, today Abu Dhabi reaches for the sky and screams “look at me now”. Tonight they’re twerking for freedom within sight of the Grand Mosque. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Pearls & Caviar Shangri-La Hotel
Khor Al Maqta shangri-la.com
Enjoy a special camping experience with your own rooftop tent. Pack your things into a spacious Toyota Prado with your tent already stored on the roof and drive wherever you want, whether it be along the coast, up into the rugged mountains or through the desert. Once you’ve found the perfect spot (in Oman you can free camp anywhere), unfold your tent in a matter of minutes, light a nice fire and watch the sunset. And the best feature is waiting for you; the big, comfy mattress in your spacious tent will ensure you sleep like a baby, waking up to the sound of the waves, the birds or the muezzin’s call from the nearby mosque.
Enjoy a leisurely drive from Muscat, stopping at a wadi (valley) or two, and see the shipyard in Sur, where they’ve been building Omani dhows (traditional boats) for centuries. In the evening, take a guided tour to witness green turtles coming ashore to lay their eggs. Of the hundreds of hatchlings, only a handful survive to return to this beach to lay their eggs, so each journey is precious.
Ras Al Khabba stands out as another must-see highlight on your camping adventure. The point marks the edge of a cliff right above the water where the Gulf of Oman meets the Indian Ocean, about about an hour’s drive from Sur and only a couple of kilometres past the Ras Al Jiz Turtle Reserve. Set up your tent for a night under the stars, waking up in the morning to the waves breaking 100 metres below you.
Today we’re off to the desert! We leave Muscat in comfortable 4WD’s, and head for Nizwa, the old capital of the Sultanate and soon leave the tarmac road to cross Umm As Sameem (“ Mother of Poison”), Oman’s largest salt flat. According to Bedouin legends whole caravans have disappeared in the quick sands of this barren land, where we get an impression of the vastness of the desert. We see mirages before reaching the first giant red dunes of Rub al-Khali (Empty Quarter), entering the world’s largest sand desert. With a camp fire crackling, we spend the night under the stars or in a tent, the choice is yours.
“Ramla” is the Arabic word for sand and this is what we will see and experience in all shapes and colors for a week. After a hearty breakfast, we cross the dunes of Ramlat Abu at Tabul on desert tracks and go further down South. We experience ever changing colors of the sand and find a sinkhole filled with water.
Heavily loaded with water, fuel and food we then cross the Southern part of the Rub al Khali for the next 3 nights / 4 days. Dunes here are even bigger and many times we need to cross these massive sand mountains, it is not always easy to find a good passage and we might have to get off the vehicles occasionally if we are stuck – this is part of the adventure! Via GPS we head for Uruq ibn Humudah in the border area of Oman / Saudi Arabia / Yemen before turning East to Ramlat Al Hashman, where we might be lucky to find some geodes. On our way we pass the artesian wells of Shigag and Burkhana and will surely see camels somewhere. Whoever feels like it, can do some desert walking in the morning while our crew breaks camp and packs the 4×4’s for the day before catching up with the group. We do not have a fixed itinerary and hence have plenty of time to experience and savor the desert, we chose our camp locations at the most beautiful spots, usually higher up in the dunes for a great panoramic view. Our expedition ends right on the white beaches of Salalah.
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