The landscape changes. I see camels and donkeys, and the road begins to roll with a series of gentle but relentless ups and downs. I press on. From a distance, I spot a steep incline ahead and silently hope my turnoff into Wadi Disah appears before I reach it. Thankfully, it does. But just as relief washes over me, I’m confronted by a large sign: Road Closed. I had read online that other travelers had been stopped at this northeastern entrance to the stunning valley. My heart sinks - this can’t be true.
Turning back isn’t an option; my legs are already exhausted, and the day is nearing its end. Returning to the turnoff and following the road south is equally impossible. That would mean tackling the steep climb I’ve been dreading, which my legs simply can’t handle anymore. With no other choice, I decide to attempt passing the checkpoint unnoticed. A car approaches as I inch forward. The Saudi driver rolls down his window and assures me it’s no problem to pass. His words, though casual, are deeply reassuring, even if his glance at my bicycle is somewhat skeptical.
The road continues with a gentle incline for a few hundred meters before suddenly plunging downward, unveiling an entirely new world.
The vastness ahead is breathtaking. The landscape stretches endlessly, with thousands of mountain peaks shimmering in the golden glow of the evening light. It feels as though my heart has been flung wide open.
It’s a moment of transformation.
My exhaustion vanishes, replaced by awe. I can’t stop marveling at the beauty before me. Again and again, I stop to take photos, each view more striking than the last. The road twists upward briefly, only to drop sharply once more, bringing me deeper into this magical terrain.
