This was something I’ve been looking forward to for ages. Ever since Annie and Ray told me about their cruise with Britt and Wil on the waters of Oman, I have wanted to go there. Britt organised everything before we arrived and a private dhow was booked for this morning.
The day began with a walk with the doggies around the archaeological district. Wil took Eddie because he is trying to train him to respond to commands. Eddie was not in the mood for schooling and instead ended up being carried most of the way as all he wanted to do was to bolt home. He is only 16 weeks old.
The dhow was booked for 12.30 and a 3 hour cruise so there was no rush to get out. Britt prepared an enormous lovely lunch with chicken and coleslaw rolls, fresh fruit, dates, chips and an assortment of drinks. I was really surprised at the number of cars on the roads but thanks to the discretionary nature of the speed limit (70 really means 70+20), we were soon barrelling along. Google maps was having some sort of glitch but Johnny had downloaded maps onto the Ipad and these proved useful.
The drive to Oman and the border crossing first cut through a sandy desert which was dotted with Bedouin camps and wandering camels. For mile upon mile there were tailgating and slow moving trucks. They were confined to a single lane while cars like ours enjoyed the unimpeded journey in 4 fast running lanes. We went through Sharjah and then Ras Al Kaimah. Everything was laden with a heavy coating of greyish sandy dust and the route, when not open dessert, quickly converted to dusty strip shopping stretches and small factories. Johnny delighted in pointing out places he had stayed in and worked at in the past.
The border crossing was suitably austere with serious looking young men in a marble lined hall, checking and stamping, and of course collecting the money you have to pay to leave the UAE. The whole thing was repeated 200 yards down the road as we entered Oman (and yes we had to pay again and again present our passports for stamping). The hall was full of French families so we guessed it was school break in France. The border crossing was ringed with razor wire and guarded by military vehicles with mounted machine guns, so not a good idea to make silly jokes or act in any way that might draw attention. I even wrapped my bare leg in Britt’s scarf in case I accidentally caused offence.
Once in Oman we were soon travelling on a spectacular winding road that clung on to the strip of land at the base of a barren and craggy, grey-dusted mountain range. The sea of the green glinting Persian gulf sparkled at us on the left hand side of the car while the right was all forbidding sheer cliffs with only the goats brave enough to attempting to eke a living out there. In the misty distance across the water lay the southern coast of Iran. Never, never did I imagine I would be travelling here.
When we arrived in Khasab, some 3 hours later, it was a relief to see buildings and what looked like the boats of a fishing village. We were met by an enormous rock painted mural welcoming us to the town. A couple of kilometres further down the road was the town proper and the office of the dhow company. Mohammed the manager had confirmed by phone an hour earlier that we were nearby and so in no time we were driven out to the dock and climbing over dhows to get to our one.
The dhow deck was completely covered with carpets and cushions, so it was shoes off as as soon as we embarked. From here on we were in the hands of two lovely smiling young men who steered us through the fjords. Dotted at the foot of these impossibly steep mountains was an occasional sprinkling of dwellings that could only be reached by boat, but you could say that the area was essentially natural. We could see the clear lines of geological mayhem as whole mountains were heaved out of the ocean and and bent into shape. Suddenly, far in the distance, Wil caught sight of dolphins leaping out of the blue-green waters. Our boat moved purposefully towards them and encouraged by the deck hand’s clapping, the boat was soon being escorted by a pod of friendly dolphins. We had a fridge stocked with a variety of icy drinks and there was a large platter of fruit as well as sweet tea to enjoy.
We ploughed on through the water to Telegraph Island and dropped anchor in a little cove so we could swim. The water was literally boiling with striped fish and just off the island there were corals. Wil, Britt and John were soon in the water, leaping and frolicking like 10 year olds, and once they put on their scuba masks they were cavorting like the dolphins we had seen earlier. I was very happy to remain on board as media support. The underwater camera was put to good use and I think even encouraged some spectacular dives. As a very young girl, Britt had been trained by Ex Olympian, Jenny Donnet and her poised and spectacular dives made all those early rises and terrified leaps off the 3 metre board worthwhile.
Unfortunately, as a handful of dhows arrived at Telegraph Island, and inched closer to the shore, the air became laden with diesel fumes and I started to feel very dizzy. I could barely move for the next couple of hours but gratefully that didn’t stop the rest of the gang from having fun.
By the time we arrived back at the dock, I was feeling a mite better. Britt took the wheel of the orange tonka truck and her careful driving around those endless coastal curves ensured I did not lose my lunch into the plastic bag that had been strategically placed in front of me. The journey back to Dubai entailed the tedious border crossings again and more stamping of passports but gratefully no further payment. It was quite late when we arrived home and so plans for lamb skewers on the bbq were shelved and we tucked into the left overs from the picnic instead.
Another unbelievably wonderful day in the UAE came to an end.
