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Climbing mountains: Ras al Khaimah & Oman

15/2/2013

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Al Hajar mountains, UAEAl Hajar mountains
Riding the Arabian dragon’s spiny backbone
Part 1: Al Hajar mountains from Oman
If you look at an aerial map of the Arabian peninsula, you could imagine that a fiendish dragon or dinosaur had laid its weary head down to sleep on the soft, warm sand and fallen asleep. Over the years the wind blew the sand dune over its sleeping body like a blanket, leaving only the spiny backbone visible from the sky.

That is how I like to see the Al Hajar Mountains, which stretch more than 500km from the Omani tip in Musandam, crossing through the United Arab Emirates to the most easterly point of Oman near the fishing village of Sur.

This weekend’s adventure started on one side of the mountains, and ended on the other, without actually going over the top, which obviously would have been the more direct route.

When we have the opportunity we like to escape Dubai, with its technologically advanced skyscraper landscape, to find ourselves in the hills. With the help of a babysitter, we left the children at home for a short overnight trip to take part in a running race to the top of Wadi Bih, near Dibba, Oman; More than 75km of wadi bashing on foot for fun.

However, before our race could begin our first hurdle was not getting across the mountains but getting across the border. Sharjah authorities now demand that UAE residents present proof of a hotel stay or booking with a dhow operator to enter Oman at this crossing, so if you plan to camp you may face some challenges. We had given our passport details to the race organisers who did everything they could to smooth the path, but regardless we were turned back at the border until we had found a policeman wandering around with our name on his list. Now you may think that we would have to prove our identity and we would be stamped or given of permission slip to pass thorough the iron gates of bureaucracy. No. I pointed to the list, and said: “That’s me.” The policeman said: “Tell the guard Khalid said it’s ok.” And that was it.

This is not even a visa issue. If you hold a tourist visa, rather than a resident’s visa you’re exempt. So the reason for the change in crossing logistics is unclear. It could be to stop people with debts absconding and escaping by boat, but seeing as the Strait of Hormuz is the watery home of pirates, smugglers and Iranian sailors, it’s not a great route, especially when you can head to Muscat with no problems.

All that is clear is that local businesses are suffering as adventurous thrill seekers search for rocks and wadis to scramble over somewhere else.

Al Hajar mountainsBeautiful colours
The landscape, though, cannot be tainted by this little hiccup. The powerful dragon lies sleeping peacefully on the beach, and did not react when we tickled him by running up and down his spine. The views are spectacular. The strata of the rock wiggles its way uphill ending in a rainbow of colour. It’s almost worth running the 35km or so up to the top just for the view.

Frustratingly the border restrictions mean you have to return via the same border post. There is a gravel track that runs from Dibba through the Musandam peninsula to Khasab and forks to link up with Ras al Khaimah. But the route is closed unless you are an Omani or UAE national.


Part 2: Al Hajar from Ras al Khaimah
The second part of our trip took on a completely different flavor. The dust, energy and eventual exhaustion of our first trip was replaced by a relaxing, peaceful time within the sanctuary of a beach resort. The Hilton Ras al Khaimah Resort and Spa describes itself as where “barefoot luxury meets fun and adventure, and goes hand in hand with relaxation”. And that’s what we got. It’s a popular haunt for tourists and Dubai residents. 

Ras al Khaimah, which means "Top of the Tent" possibly in reference to the mountains, isn’t a bustling city but its history dates back to the 3rd Millennium BC, when it was know as Julfar. It’s a good base to visit the mountains, but routes can be dangerous, so it’s worth going with a guide. 

The Stairway to Heaven is one example. It offers magnificent views and was created Bedouins to give access from Wadi Galilah in Ras al Khaimah to the high mountain villages located just over the border in Oman. With drops of 300 metres, and with over 2,000 metres of ascent and descent, it is not for the faint hearted and accidents are not unknown. 

If you’re looking for day trips that don’t leave your pulse racing or your heart pounding, Ras al Khaimah is also a good base to visit the nearby thermal springs at Khatt, and the Musandam peninsula for a spot of dolphin watching.

However, with its spa, watersports, beach, pools, kids’ club and a good range of restaurants you might never leave the hotel. I never say no to chilling out…but then again I never say know to the chance to climb on a dragon’s back either.

The practical bit

What to read: UAE and Oman Off-Road guides, published by Explorer.

Information on border restrictions

Information on Stairway to Heaven

Information on Musandam trip

Where to stay: Hilton Ras al Khaimah Resort and Spa, 

What to do: Dhow trip around Musandam peninsula; thermal springs at Khatt, mountain walks.

What you need to know: You can cross into Oman at the Tibat border post, and back again, but at time of writing you can not create a circular route through to Dibba, unless you are an Omani or UAE national, due to border restrictions at that crossing. If you want to cross into Oman at the Dibba border post you’ll need to book accommodation in advance, and the hotel or your tour operator will make crossing arrangements for you. It is currently not possible to cross the border to camp on the beach with a UAE resident’s visa.

And finally: Don’t forget your passport.

Please note: Hotels and activities mentioned are only suggestion. They have been tried and tested by us anonymously. Other places to stay are available, depending on your preferences and budget. We are not able to provide an exhaustive list of hotels – those mentioned are a result of our travel experience.

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Fjording a path to the tip of the Arabian peninsula

5/2/2013

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I am standing, or to be precise wobbling, on a boat as it bobs about on the leaden water, storm clouds brewing above. For a moment I truly believe that I’m in the Norwegian Fjords. I can see the harsh, honest beauty of the surrounding cliffs and caves, and I’m shivering while being lashed by rain.

But I’m not in Norway. I’m not even in Europe. I’m in Oman, in Musandam, the most northerly tip of the Arabian peninsula.

The weekend’s adventure started with a drive from Dubai through an impressive sandstorm, which enveloped the car and left miniature dunes on the road. Swallowed up by the dust we arrived at the Omani border just in time for the sand on our car to be turned into a thick mud mask by a downpour. And that was pretty much the weather pattern for the weekend.

Don’t get me wrong, as a Brit I’m used to the odd downpour, but this being the Middle East, and a desert, I didn’t have any waterproofs. Baden Powell would not have been impressed. I was not prepared.

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Once you’ve got through the tedious, and to my mind, unnecessarily unstructured border crossing, your trip truly starts. You leave the industrial landscape of quarries and huge plants of various description behind, and the road starts to hug the limestone cliffs.

Along our filigreed journey, we stopped in Burka for a picnic on the beach and marveled at the looming clouds overhanging an impressive 17th century fort. The surrounding mountains looked like a layer cake, with strata of different coloured sediments. You can trace the layers along the cliffs, watching as they go up and down like waves, mirroring the sea opposite.

A second brief stop at Tawi gave us a fleeting snapshot of past life. Hidden away along a small habited wadi was a rock with a primitive prehistoric carving of a goat, or possibly a camel. All other evidence of this era has been washed away, but the hamlet dwellings are still simple and unassuming, albeit with electricity.

At the main centre of habitation, Khasab, the road bids adieu to the sea, and winds its way into the mountains across the yawning wide Wadi Sal Al A’la. The newly paved road is an artery to the small hamlets dotted around the wadi, and it is surprisingly busy given that it’s pretty much a dead end at the village of Sal Al A’la. At night the way is even lit, creating the illusion of a yellow brick road. But given the environmental impact and the number of nocturnal road users, I’m not sure this is entirely a good investment.

The results of our search for a suitable campsite gave us several options. We could pitch on the beach near Khasab, where we would have the company and curiosity of other campers to contend with. A remote, but cramped beach at Khawr an Najd, presented a more interesting rest stop with jaw dropping views across the bay. We had to climb an incredibly steep winding gravel track past a military firing range, but the view was better than the location – we could see litter from the top of the mountain. It is however the only piece of coastline accessible by car.

Finally at the end of the yellow brick road was the emerald city we had been looking for. In the middle of a baron and harsh land was a green acacia forest. At first it seems difficult to explain this strange phenomenon, but perhaps the clue is the fact that Khasab is Arabic for fertility and wadis are well known for their flash floods.

With the vibe of a music festival, locals were enjoying picnics and family gatherings. Despite the popularity of the spot the trees afforded us the privacy were had been seeking, although we needn’t have worried; by nightfall the spot was deserted by humans save for the rolling crisp packets and plastic bottles left in the wake of our forest friends. With only goats and a donkey for company we set up camp for the night.

Even in the most remote corners of the peninsula, we discovered at 5.45am that the mosque’s call to prayer can be heard loud and clear. So we packed up our damp kit and packed our bags for a day at sea. 


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Our chartered dhow was spacious and comfortable, while it was dry enough to sit around and sway with the waves. Cushions and carpets were spread around, and we were offered sweet tea, coffee and fruit. The sides of the boat were low, and to give us peace of mind, the children wore life jackets supplied by our captain. There were no complaints once it was explained to our five year old that Jake and the Neverland Pirates wear the same buoyancy aids.

As we left the shore we were aware of speedboats whizzing by and viewed with suspicion we decided that they were the pirates we had heard about. A healthy cigarette (among other products I’m sure) smuggling outfit operates from the peninsula across the Strait of Hormuz to Iran, which is only 21 nautical miles away. A blind eye is certainly turned, as these were no ordinary fishermen.

We chugged around the bay and through to another one, and our guide pointed out dilapidated huts that clung to the cliffs, which were used by fishermen during episodes of inclement weather. We passed tiny villages with only 10 houses and 25 occupants that could only be reached by boat. And we spotted remote beaches, which one day we would return to by boat and camp on.

And then the weather closed in again and as the cloud wrapped itself around the boat we were soaked to the skin by horizontal rain. The main point of the trip, apart from seeing the Arabian fjords from the sea, was to look for dolphins, but our search was fruitless. We stopped at Telegraph Island, which had been the most remote British communication posting in the empire between 1864 and 1869, and with no regard for the weather my fellow sailors decided to swim ashore. I’m afraid there was no way I was going to get in that water, and I’m pretty sure I chose the path of sanity by gallantly volunteering to look after the children.

The term “going around the bend” was apparently created to describe the journey around the head of the peninsula to get to Telegraph Island, and simultaneously the mental state of the poor British bugger stationed there. Beautiful, but a lonely desolate existence.

When we didn’t think it could get any wetter, it rained some more and then the clouds parted and we were afforded a glimpse of daylight, perhaps even a far off ray of sunshine.

And, to borrow Dorothy again, somewhere over the rainbow dreams do come true. Dolphins were spotted. A pod of mothers and babies frolicked around the boat. It’s almost a life affirming experience when people and animals watch each other with interest and curiosity, rather than contempt or as the next meal. They were gentle and graceful, and as they glided through the glittering water I was aware that our adventure had been a truly enriching experience; we had viewed people and animals in their natural habitat, and in harmony.

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The practical bit

Books to read: UAE and Oman Off-Road guides, published by Explorer. www.explorerpublishing.com

Where to camp: 1. Beach at Khasab; 2. Beach at Khawr an Najd - turn left off Wadi Sal Al A’la road at military range and take steep track over mountain; 3. Acacia forest at end of Wadi Sal Al A’la road.

Leave nothing behind. If building a fire dig a hole and cover it up after when the embers have cooled. For everything else bag it and bin it.

Boat trip: There are several options and plenty of companies offering similar trips. We travelled with Khasab Travel and Tours (+968 2673 0464). You can join a scheduled dhow for 20-25 people costing 200 Dhs per adult for a full day and 100 Dhs for a child. Children under five are free. You can charter your own dhow for 1,500 Dhs for a four hour tour. Note: Although the local currency is Omani Rials, UAE Dirhams are widely accepted.

Visa: Tourist visas are available at the border crossing. You will also need to arrange Oman car insurance, which can be done at the border too, or in advance.

Note of warning: You can cross into Oman at the Tibat border post, and back again, but at time of writing you can not create a circular route through to Dibba, unless you are an Omani or UAE national, due to border restrictions at that crossing.

And remember: Don’t forget your passport, or your swimming costume.

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