Sand

November 27, 2024

After yesterday’s physically demanding start in the desert, today is supposed to be a more relaxing day. At least, that’s the plan.

Only 23 kilometers through the Wadi Disah are on the agenda.

Wadis are dry riverbeds in the desert that contain little to no water, except after rainfall. I’m looking forward to taking my time and enjoying the Wadi.

Before entering the Wadi, I scan the rocky landscape for a particular formation: the 'Camel's Rock' - a rock said to resemble a camel. My host in Tabuk, Salah, has never heard of it, despite visiting the area several times. Clearly, it’s not going to be easy to find. I leave the paved road behind, just past my campsite, and to avoid pushing the bike through the sand, I leave it behind and continue on foot. I see real camels, but where is the rock? I climb higher up the rocks, but still find nothing. Then, by chance, I glance upward and spot it - much higher than I expected.

Camel's Rock sits proudly above the valley, and it truly does resemble a camel.

Soon, riding my bike is no longer an option. Pushing it is the only choice, and I haven’t even reached the actual Wadi yet.

The entrance itself is spectacular, with towering rock walls rising impressively on both sides. I feel tiny with my "Iron Wilma" (the bike).

What starts as simply pushing the bike quickly turns into a full-blown struggle to move it forward.

The sand is deep, and every few meters demand immense effort. From the photos, I had assumed there’d be water and that the path would be mostly rideable, but it’s now clear it hasn’t rained in a long time. When it does rain, a Wadi like this can transform into a raging river. For now, though, I’m the one dragging - dragging the bike. Occasionally, stones along the edges make pushing slightly easier, but for the most part, I can’t avoid the deep sand.

The contrast of green palms and shrubs against the red rock walls and light brown sand is stunning. I stop frequently - not just to catch my breath, but to take in the beauty of the surroundings. After about four kilometers in the Wadi, I’ve reached the limit of my strength. It may not sound like much, but with a 60-kilogram bike and all my gear sinking into the deep sand, it’s no small achievement - especially with my legs still fatigued from yesterday. The relaxing day will have to wait. I sit on a rock, eat the dates Salah gave me, and pause to recover.

Earlier in the morning, I saw two cars heading in my direction. Now, only one is going in the opposite direction.

I wait.

As I look at the rocks around me, I begin to notice more faces emerging from the stone, as though they are watching me. Most of them have grimaces, but I don’t let it bother me. I’m sure another car will come to take me across the Wadi. For some reason, I trust that it will work out. Worst case, I’ll camp here, even though it’s technically prohibited.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of engines from the direction I’m waiting for. In such a narrow valley, sounds carry from far away.

I hear two cars approaching, both packed with people. It’s a Pakistani family - one of them works here in Saudi Arabia, while the others are visiting. They suggest tying my bike to the roof of their car. That seems a bit too adventurous, as I want to make sure my Wilma arrives intact on the other side of the Wadi. Nevertheless, this family is incredibly kind and helpful. After a photo with their daughter, they continue on their way.

And I wait. And wait.

Until a pick-up truck arrives. Two brothers from a nearby village quickly load my bike onto the back of their truck. After nearly two hours of waiting, I finally squeeze in beside them in the front. My luggage is squeezed in among their many belongings and our legs.

They tell me they are part of a family with 16 siblings - a record! I often ask people how many brothers and sisters they have, and the numbers are usually high, but 16 is extraordinary. As it turns out, these 16 children come from three different mothers. In Saudi Arabia, a man can marry up to four wives, though I’m told this is rare nowadays. The record for one woman, they add, is 11 children - an entire soccer team!

We reach the spot where a small stream of water flows.

This is the area I recognized from the pictures earlier, where it would have been easier to ride my bike. However, I decide to let them drive me all the way through the Wadi - who knows what challenges might still lie ahead. We pass through thick shrubs, several meters tall, when suddenly we spot a marmot-like animal in the sand. Chaos erupts. We stop immediately as the animal darts into a rock crevice. The two brothers try to retrieve it, though at first, I’m not sure why. They say it’s injured - are they trying to rescue it from being stuck? They give it their all, with one even giving the other a piggyback to reach further into the crevice. To my surprise, the driver eventually manages to grab the animal using a sweater.

We continue driving, the driver now holding the animal in one hand and the steering wheel in the other. Shifting gears becomes tricky, but they make a smooth handoff to the passenger. They then show me pictures of their home - they have a sort of zoo with various birds and now plan to add this poor creature to their collection.

At the end of the Wadi, I say my goodbyes. It’s getting dark. In the village of Al Disah, I find a water tank where I can refill my bottles for free. Surprisingly, my internet still isn’t working, even here. The owner of the local market kindly lets me use his connection for a moment, allowing me to send a message home to let everyone know I’m okay.

Everything is fine, yes - but after just two days, I’m completely exhausted.

Loneliness

Desert