Out of the compound
Last Friday at 0930 precisely (our guide is German!) our trusty Toyota Prada (with us inside) joined six other SUV’s for a drive through the desert east of here. Most jaunts here are made convoy style to guarantee back-up in case of car trouble, as you can’t call Triple A in the middle of the the Saudi outback. (Although if you pull over for more than ten minutes you’re likely to be asked by passing Saudis if you need help. Desert etiquette requires helping anyone in need.)
We drove eastwards from Yanbu Al-Bahr, the older town close to our compound, towards the jagged 3000 foot mountain peaks we’re lucky enough to see on clear days. Our international procession included people from Canada, Germany, Namibia, America and Saudi Arabia. We slowly gained altitude and after about 30 minutes we reached Yanbu Al Nakhl, a small village, and turned right. We passed numerous camel and goat herds, a 300 year old Turkish fort high on an escarpment, and miles and miles of unoccupied desert land.
Up the mountain pass
Our turn-around point was half-way up a hazardously steep unpaved road when we reached 1,200 feet and a blockage caused by a road crew in the process of rebuilding the pass. Paul and I both remembered driving this way three years ago but that time we were coming down the mountain after a camping trip in the mountains north of Madinah. It was somewhat mystifying, however, as we remembered the road being completely paved (did they cover up the pavement?), if just as steep. That time we had to drive down it in first gear to spare us burning brakes and/or a runaway Land Rover.
Al Bigaa
On the way back we stopped at an ancient abandoned village of baked mud brick walls and roof joists of palm trunks covered with palm fronds. I’ve visited several of these desert villages since coming to Saudi, and even though they’re ruined and bare I find them so fascinating. The best and most extensive was El Ula, near Mad’an Salah. (My adventure hunting down artifacts there with my good buddy girlfriend Liana Moir is worth a post all by itself!) In the spirit of full disclosure, I read in an Eagle Scout Project from the 90’s that Al-Bigaa only dates to 1914. I prefer believing that the village is several centuries old! That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
But the desert in Saudi Arabia is full of these primitive places. This is where people lived before the rise of the large cities drew the population away. I imagine that life in these villages was basic, communal and cozy in a weird village way. The houses share common walls and doors open to narrow alleys that wind and interconnect through the towns. If I close my eyes I can just imagine children playing, women gossiping, men drinking tea and discussing business. The towns tend to sit at the top of ridges and are surrounded by walls for protection. But why are they located there? Was there a trade route nearby? Was there once a source of water nearby, since dried up? What did the people do there? How did they survive for hundreds of years in Al Bigga or Al Ula or any one of thousands of these places?
Paul and I scrambled around in the 108 degree heat and fierce sun trying to find anything of interest (I found some nice green glazed shards, but Malcolm knocked them off the shelf to the carpet and our housekeeper, not appreciating their value, appears to have tossed them.) When I asked one of our teachers what he thought life must have been like in this village, Chris said, “Dirty and hard.” He’s probably closer to the truth, but these places excite my imagination somehow.
Desert banquet
Next stop was for lunch under the only trees around, some species of acacia, I think, which offered welcome but sparse shade. Tables with tablecloths were quickly set up and filled with a potluck lunch. Our German contingent guaranteed that the food was ample and delicious: homemade rye bread, potato salad, and meatballs. Our German receptionist is married to a Saudi man and they provided hot cardamom coffee and dates, personally served by Nabbih and his sweet young son.
Four wheel drive SUV’s are necessary to drive through the sand drifts and rough tracks off road. And so we all spent the next 20 minutes driving like mad all over the desert, trying to get stuck in the sand and catch a little air on the dunes. The ecologist in me was a tiny bit appalled at how we were desecrating this beautiful land with our tire tracks (clearly visible on a satellite image on Google Earth). Oh well, “when in Saudi…”
Unfortunately, one of our party experienced an overheating GM (damned American car!) and so all the men gathered around the open hood and talked about it. Eventually it cooled down and he was able to drive it home.
Back to the desert
The desert that day was so beautiful. I’ve always loved desert landscapes, ever since my dad would take me, my sister and Uncle Don on trips to Death Valley. (Getting stuck in the sand was a common event then, as well.) Then in the early 70’s Monte Gillette and I lived in the desert outside Phoenix and my daughter Gillian was born there. Of course, everyone who knows me at all knows how important the California Sierras are to me, but this drive through the spectacular Arabian desert brought my appreciation of its clear clean air, vast vistas and ochres, siennas and cerulean sky.
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I’m especially amused by the youtube video of the men trying to each know less the the others. I remember the desert camping and perhaps that accounts for my frequent returns to Wadi Rum and Wadi Araba.