We are an adventurous couple in our 70s who love to travel, meet new folks, take lots of pictures, eat great food, drink delicious wine, and enjoy the outdoors.
This
is the third episode in the series of our trip to Jordan and Italy. Find the
first here, and the second, about Petra,
here.
After our rather excessive second day at Petra (21,000
steps! 3,700 vertical feet!) we slept well, and were met at our hotel the next
morning by our driver, Hamdan, ready to take us two hours down the road to Wadi
Rum, a desert preserve.
One advantage of having a driver was his ability to call
and coordinate with the folks at our destination, making our arrival seamless.
We got out of Hamdan’s car, and into the truck from the camp we’d booked. (I’ve
mentioned before the incredible amount of planning that Paula and her long-time
friend, Sue, put into this trip. The driving, the lodging, the excursions had
all been set up months before.)
Our cabin. The dome behind is larger, for families.
Pathway through the camp.
We studied the desert from our seats in the back of the
truck: it was orange. Well, mostly; also yellow. And endless. Our driver, taking us to the camp, mentioned that scenes
from the movie The Martian were
filmed here; also Dune and numerous
other desert-based films.
Wadi Rum Desert Preserve--orange and empty.
Our camp, the Wadi Rum Dream Camp, is one of many in
this area, which offer varying levels of comfort. Wisely, the camps are well
spaced, preserving the sense of desert vastness. At our Dream
Camp we had individual huts, with en
suite bathrooms (our first experience with glamping!). One whole wall was a
huge window giving out on the desert: perhaps that’s the dream, the sense of
being engulfed by the vastness without having to actually put up with the heat
(we had AC!) and blowing sand (tightly-sealed windows!).
(Actually, the weather was extraordinary, neither hot nor cold, and certainly not windy. We had perfect desert exploration weather.)
Sue, welcoming us to the camp.
One of the Bedouin staff relaxes in the seating area. There's a large pot of tea on the fire all day long.
There is nothing, really, to do in the desert (for those
of us lucky enough to be staying in a dream camp) except experience it, which
is, of course, the whole point. In fact, Wadi Rum is a protected area, somewhat
like a National Park in the US: nothing happens there without a permit. The
hikers, the camps, the camels. The desert rides; all are tightly controlled to
prevent the place from becoming overrun.
Paul, lost in the desert landscape.
In our case, much of the experience came from two long
trips we took, one each day we were there, riding in the back of the truck.
Tire tracks running through the sand.
I have mixed feeling about those desert rides.
Certainly, streaming through the desert in the back of a fossil-fueled pickup
(a new Toyota HiLux, the model commonly used by the camps) did not fit in with
my romantic notion of a vast, quiet, ethereal desert.
Most common mans of transport. But only tourists ride the camels!
Sue hangs on as we speed past tourists and their Bedouin guide.
On the other hand, we could not have walked very far!
Camels were certainly available for hire, and probably horses, but frankly, we
would have gotten even less far that way. We did see some hikers far from any
camps, and I admire and envy them their desert experience, which no doubt was
more “authentic” than ours. But I’m also pleased that we were able to see the
variety of landscapes that we did.
A Bedouin tent in the desert.
Much of what we saw was unique and fantastic; some felt
a bit “old hat.” Our first stop was at the “mushroom rock,” a huge bolder
balanced on a tiny pedestal. It was swarming with other visitors as we drove up,
people on another truck tour just like ours. Eventually they left and we took
our photos, but hey, we’ve seen rocks before. We also visited some impressive
rock arches, but again, we’ve been to southern Utah several times, including that
US National Park called, er, Arches.
A rock arch.
More rock; another arch.
This crowd climbed on top of the arch, and insisted that each person have their photo taken there. (Note the Bedouin tent: you won't see that at Arches NP!)
At one point we stopped at the top of a steep dune and waited while several other trucks made the big drop. After our apprehension reached the appropriate level, it was our turn, and down we went.
It was, admittedly, thrilling, although I didn’t really want it to be. (How “authentic”
was THAT experience?)
A truck, ready to take the Big Drop...
That could be our truck, but it wasn't...
See, we’d come to experience the immense emptiness and
solitude of the desert; bouncing along in our little pickup gave us that, while
at the same time destroying that same emptiness and solitude. That was the conundrum of Wadi Rum!
...because this was our truck!
There was a clever end to the afternoon “sunset tour.”
As the ride wore on, and the sun got lower, I began to think, yes I want to see
the sunset in the desert, but really have no interest in riding back in the
dark! Ah, but the tour ended at the perfect place to see the sunset: right outside
our camp. Our driver encouraged us to remove our shoes and walk barefoot the
brief distance to the camp, which I did. It was quite nice, and I realized I
could have walked quite far (barefoot or fully shod) while watching the sunset.
But none of us did; we were perfectly content to watch the skies darken from
right in front of the camp. So… opportunity missed? Maybe. But we were exceptionally
well satisfied with our desert experience just as it was.
Returning to camp at sunset. It was just March, and flowers were blooming!
The camp at night (no, those are LEDs on the hill, not fires!)
Paula got this exceptional night shot of the camp with her iPhone 14. That's Jupiter just below the moon!
Then the morning came when we piled into the truck
with our bags, and returned to the parking lot where Hamdan awaited. We were going north, but he headed south, to clear a long mountainous ridge. We went as far as the
outskirts of the city of Aqaba, at the top of the Red Sea, and then got on
the highway heading north. We followed the Jordan-Israel boarder for almost
four hours—desert all the way!—to the Dead Sea and our luxury resort. And, a
few days later, the Amman airport and the flight to Palermo, Sicily. But we
told that story in a
previous blog, here…
Morning, the day we left, seen from our bed through the huge picture window..
Well, that's the end of the Jordan stories. Our next stop was in Palermo, Sicily...
This is
why we’d come to Jordan, this ancient city, Petra. For decades we’d been
dreaming of coming to this mystical place. This was our reason for being here
in Jordan.
And
as we approached the city it was mystical: the weather closed in, and
through the thick fog we could see only a cars-length in front of us. But
Hamdan, our driver, was unfazed; he’d been over this route many times, and got
us safely to our hotel (and then got himself safely back to Ammon, two hours
away!).
The
next day dawned wet and cold, and our hearts sank as we ate breakfast at the
hotel, staring at the fog out the windows. But the forecast was good, and by
the time we made our way to the entrance (Petra is an UNESCO World Heritage site
and requires an entrance fee) the weather had warmed and the fog lifted.
We crept thorough the slot canyon, stunned and amazed!
We
strolled through incredible slot canyons, wide-eyed, the walls rising
vertically above us. It was reminiscent of the red rocks of southern Utah, yet…
different. We kept going, further and further. There were no side channels,
only the one narrow confined trail. At one point we came to carvings on the
walls, and overheard a guide explaining they depicted a camel train, wending
its way through these canyons (although the images have been badly worn over
the 21 centuries since they were carved!).
The legs on the right are clear, the other two men less so. But the camel above them requires some imagination!
It seemed endless, but we did approach the final opening...
Later
at the museum we were to learn that Petra earned its wealth from the caravans
carrying trade goods across the desert. At its peak it had an estimated
population of 20,000. It was stunning to imagine these caravans crossing the
trackless wastes for weeks, then coming upon this narrow canyon and following
it until it opened into an entire city carved into the rock walls. What must
have gone through their minds? They must have been even more astonished than we
were!
And then it appeared: the tomb called the Treasury!
But
the trade routes changed, and in the 1st Century CE the Romans came
along (them again!) and took over Petra. In 363 an earthquake destroyed much of
what was left of the city, and it passed into obscurity until the early 19th
Century, when a Swiss traveler re-discovered it.
Petra's star attraction draws a lively crowd, hanging out and showing off.
Today
it’s a major tourist draw for Jordan. The Bedouins, native people of the region,
lived in the caves of the city until recently. They have now all been moved to
a nearby village, but they still have a presence; their black and white striped
tents can occasional be seen off in the desert, and of course it is Berbers who
are selling all manner of tourist trinkets, drinks, and camel and horse rides
through the city and out into the desert.
Tourist stalls in front of magnificently carved rock tombs.
We follow the crowd through the captivating street of this ancient city.
The Theater.
Sue
and I opted for a long climb to the Place
of Sacrifice, a spot many many steps above the floor of the city. It was
tiring but rewarding, with views to the far-off horizon.
Sue climbs energetically...
...while Paula contemplates the city below.
Main street of Petra seen from above.
Some of the rock colors were hallucinogenic! (What must visitors have thought, back in the First Century BCE?)
The
sun sank low and we started the long trek back through the Siq, that winding narrow slot in the rocks. The trial opened up,
and we continued with the even longer, broad and open but uphill path to the
entrance. Along the way we were offered horse rides out. “Included with your
ticket!” the horse boys shouted. Maybe, but that did not include knowledge of
how to ride. Nor did it include the tip.
We
kept walking.
It
was all uphill to the hotel, but along the way we encountered the Cave Bar,
world’s oldest bar (or was that world’s oldest cave? I don’t remember exactly.)
We plunked ourselves down and ordered tall frosty mugs of beer all around.
Jordan is a Muslim country, but the prohibition on alcohol is not extended to
tourists, nor the bars that serve them!
Least we forget: the Treasury appeared in an Indiana Jones movie... a bit of pop culture not lost on sellers of tourist goods!
The
next day we were up early again, and took the free shuttle to Little Petra, a
near-by village with a few carved rock faces. (No touring here, though; we were
told a Russian oligarch had rented the place for a party, and, indeed, crews
were busy setting up a stage complete with lights and sound system, and modern
restrooms).
Little Petra gets ready for a private party.
From
here we could pay €8 for a ride to the trail head: we all piled into the back
of a pickup for a 15-minute wild ride along an “unimproved road.” Then we all
piled out, and started walking up. And up.
View from the truck as we get ready to leave on our bouncy "joy" ride.
See that tiny car on the far left? That's the trail head, and we're just getting started!
The
trail was steep but not difficult; it had been worked on pretty extensively.
There were lots of stone steps, and concrete walkways along the cliff edges.
But the country was very rugged: up and down, down and up. We were on a mountain
ridge at about 3500 feet elevation, with fantastic views off in the distance.
There were a few particular viewpoints where we could see (almost) the Dead Sea
and, on the far shore, Palestine (as it’s called in Arab-dominated countries).
Not too bad here!
Well-constructed steps...
...but oh, so many of them!
Israel and the Dead Sea is out there somewhere.
The Jordanian flag marks a rest stop: a Bedouin tent selling tea, juice, and other tourist items.
After
a couple of hours of this up and down among the rugged red rocks we came to
what’s called the Monastery, another huge tomb carved into the rock face. There
was the usual tourist scene, although there were not so many here as in the
lower part of Petra. We ate the lunch we brought, and started planning our
return.
Our first glimpse of the Monastery.
The Monastery, full on.
Yes, it's BIG!
And... more.
Paula
was clear she would return the way we’d come; Sue and Alan wanted to take the
900 steps down to the lower town (which meant a hike out through the Sig again, and up the long incline to
what we thought of as the front entrance to Petra) . I started out with them,
but after seeing the crowds passing, some going up and some going down on those
900 narrow steps, I realized the wisdom of Paula’s choice and caught up with
her. Not long after we got a text from Sue (and how cool is that, to have comms
on a wilderness trail!*). She and Alan also recognized the wisdom of Paula’s
choice, and would be right behind.
* No, I am not advocating that everyone should
be instantly connected to everyone else all the time, but it was useful to know
we should expect Sue and Alan to follow us in this rugged and unknown country.
More steps!
And we went down, too!
The road winds on.
We
retraced our steps, past the Bedouin tents where water and tea was for sale, as
well as all manner of other items tourists might desire, each with its own
unique story. But the weather was cool and dry, so we kept on steadily until we
reached the pick-up point.
Finally, back to the pick-up point!
We’d
seen the essential, what we’d come to see. There is, of course, much more. The
rugged hills around Petra are filled with carved tombs, caves, and ancient
sites. One could spend considerable time wandering those hills, discovering all
manner of interesting and striking sites. (And building massive calf muscles!)
But for us it was time to move on; the desert of Wadi Rum called.
