Film

December 1, 2024

I’ve always imagined the desert in a classic way: sand dunes stretching to the horizon, likely because movies and images often portray it this way.

But the desert has many different faces, something I realize again and again.

The colors range from light and dark brown to red and even black. The landscape shifts from sandy terrain to slate rock and cliffs. There are also a few hardy plants scattered throughout: grass tufts, ground-hugging, lichen-like plants, and small trees. And, of course, I encounter animals: many camels, donkeys, and even sheep and goats. One thing all desert landscapes have in common, however, is their barrenness.

In the middle of the desert, I cycle through an archway. Now, watered plants line both sides of the street and the median strip. It seems to be a village, but apart from a government building, there are hardly any houses in sight. In the park that follows, I take a lunch break on the artificial grass. The small roofs meant to provide shade miss their target: their shadows barely reach the edge of the lawn and mostly fall on the stone promenade, not on the benches.

I feel like I'm in the wrong movie, so I lie down.

Otherwise, this park seems poorly planned and somewhat out of place, a feeling I often get in Saudi Arabia. Most of the time, there are playgrounds as well, but in my opinion, they are often poorly designed plastic structures, rarely used. However, for my lunch break, this park serves its purpose.

As I continue, I pass a supermarket and treat myself to a refreshing strawberry yogurt drink. It's delightful. Little refreshments like this are even more appreciated in this arid environment. Soon, impressive mountains come into view.

A car stops in front of me, and a child's hand extends from the backseat, offering a packet of popcorn.

Perfect. Now I can fully enjoy the nature documentary unfolding before my eyes. Okay, granted, the TV version might have more action, but here, everything feels like it's in slow motion.

Three camels soon appear.

I take some photos, but the camel I’ve chosen seems to have little modeling experience - it's shy and keeps running away from me.

At the end of today’s journey, a steep road awaits. The campsite with the view must be earned, after all. Signs indicate that trucks are prohibited from driving up due to the incline. I quickly realize that even my bike is struggling. I sit by the roadside, eat some dates, and hope for a ride. Once again, I rely on others. A few cars pass, but they're all too small for my bike, so I don't even try to flag them down.

A car heading the other way stops. It’s a Russian man traveling the world in his car, and he seems interested in my journey. On social media, he goes by "Cadillactraveler." Out of courtesy, I briefly ask him something, and soon he’s filming me with a camera, shouting something in Russian, before quickly asking me a question in English. Maybe I’ll become a YouTube star soon - hopefully not. The same could happen on TikTok, as the app is quite popular here, and I’m often filmed, sometimes even without permission, from cars. It’s surprising that Russians still enjoy such great freedom to travel the world, I think.

"Cadillactraveler" or not, I continue keeping an eye on the road for a possible ride. Staying here overnight is not an option. Sure enough, right after the filming ends, a pickup truck drives up. I manage to get it to stop and politely ask if I can hitch a ride. "Of course, you can come with me to Al’Ula," the driver says. That sounds tempting, as I’m heading there anyway, but I refuse. Ahmed speaks good English and invites me to his home once I’m in Al’Ula. Even better. I bid him farewell warmly.

The view from the campsite is as breathtaking as expected.

I set up my tent almost at the edge, with a panoramic view of a thousand mountain peaks. The mountains glow red in the evening light, and the glow gradually fades until even the highest peaks are no longer lit. It feels like the time-lapse ending of a nature documentary - if only the credits were there. The wind picks up slightly, so for safety, I tie my tent to my bike with guy ropes. This turns out to be a very good idea, as the wind becomes much stronger later that night. If only I hadn’t set my tent so close to the edge, or at least positioned it with the broadside facing away from the wind. There’s nothing I can do now. I wanted the perfect view. The night turns out to be restless, with little sleep.

A nature documentary for all the senses.

Hunting

Loneliness