Jordan: Wadi Rum

Being draped over and in between seven hills, Amman is understandably pretty good at redirecting and funneling water due to all this natural relief.  After 18 hours of reasonably heavy rain, the valleys between these hills – notably where I was staying – succumbed to flash flooding. Sewers burst, roads impersonated white water rivers, cars stood still.

I was going nowhere.

Many hours after the rain stopped and two thirds the way up one of the hills... there is still a torrent of water.

You can’t get around, much less change weather like this. Taking it in my stride, I went out for breakfast that turned into lunch; my vantage point from the first story of a café afforded views of pedestrians getting sprayed by cars driving past. I wasn’t about to give up entertainment quite as good as that in a hurry. Without much of a second thought given to how long I might be able to sustain myself on Turkish coffee and felafel, the meals came and went while I alternately wrote, read and eavesdropped. I’d lost a day. It wasn’t a disaster but it was certainly undesirable. That morning I’d intended to head to Wadi Rum for two days before moving on to Egypt. Being 300km away down some rather treacherous roads, this as far as a plan went had to be totally abandoned now, which was truly a shame.

Wadi Rum was basically the place that sold me on Jordan. Petra is brilliant – make no mistake – but travelling this far for one reason was never going to be enough. Wadi Rum supplied that second reason in abundance. Famed for being Lawrence of Arabia’s refuge during his involvement in WWI, it is an expansive series of canyons inhabited by the Bedouin and recognised by UNESCO as a World Heritage site for both its cultural and natural value. The prospect of camping out under the stars after riding a horse around for a day was pretty exciting.

The following day after the streets cleared up and Amman got moving again I was held up getting out the hostel by Mikie also having to take two Danes to the airport at midday. This was a nuisance as I’d essentially paid for his time for the day and already lost half of it. The plan became dropping them off before then heading east to visit some desert castles; Kharak, Azra and Amra. As we’re leaving the airport he turns to me and says, “You like the deserts, not the oceans or the ruins. I can see it in you. I’m taking you to Wadi Rum.”

At this point it’s about half past twelve and that’s tantamount to suggesting, “let’s go to the Dongara Bakery for afternoon tea,” except that the roads are a minefield of pot holes and the drivers suicidal. Naturally, I indicated that this was more than OK by me.

The three hour drive passes almost without event. At Ma’an there are APCs and tanks stationed along the highway due to two fighting tribes in the area. This is the only interruption to otherwise sandy and slightly undulating desert… it’s hardly blow-your-socks-off awesome.

Out of nowhere we come to the edge of the desert – all along a plateau, apparently – and descend into a canyon with mesas dotted around it showing two very different packages of sedimentary rocks. It’s beautiful… and we’re not even there yet.

Rum village (find me a better name for a town) is situated in a tributary canyon to Wadi Rum. It’s about a twenty five minute drive off the now impressive highway. All the way there the mesas and canyon walls encroach on the canyon floor and road, not enough to leave anyone claustrophobic but it lets you know just how small you are.

It’s great.

It’s 4pm. At the gates to Wadi Rum, Mikie does something heroic/dodgy; he name drops a higher up at Rum and then bluffs making to call that person. The guy at the gate panics. Entry fees are waived and we get a private tour for a relatively nominal amount.

Mikie (left) and our driver.

 The driver takes us into Wadi Rum with a tray back 4x4. The tray has been re-purposed with bench seats and a precarious looking canopy. I sit on a cushion and bounce around. Only the Bedouin can drive in Wadi Rum and only 600 4wds are licensed for Wadi Rum each year, supposedly to minimise environmental impact. The licensing criteria for vehicles doesn’t appear to be terribly exacting… and in truth, nor does it seem too demanding on standards of driving. A point to consider might involve establishing some sort of rules for driving in Wadi Rum, particularly around speed or track use… but this is a start, I suppose.

Why bother with just one track?

 

We initially go to a spring where TE Lawrence bathed, then to a Siq, a dune behind a small mesa and then finally an ancient Bedouin carving depicting the area. I suppose these things are cool to historians and archaeologists (and sure, they are interesting) but in all honesty, just two hours of driving around and simply looking was going to leave me more than happy.

To be fair  to Mr Lawrence, this is not a bad bathtub view.

 

Where Hiba gets a five time daily hit of happiness through prayer, this and the memory of it is going to do me quite fine for a while yet.

There’s a story of a man who recently got lost hiking in Wadi Rum. The Jordanian and Saudi armies were dispatched in search of him, as well as Bedouin guides and trackers. They found him – healthy and in good spirits – days later in Saudi Arabia. If he is anything like me, he wasn’t lost at all, he just didn’t want to go home.

Yes, it's pretty enough.