While we could easily have spent more time exploring the wonders of Petra, we headed for Wadi Rum with hopes of seeing the sun set over the red desert. Many of us are lucky enough to live at a coast and see amazing sunsets over the ocean, but we were eager to see a different version… the sun slowly turning the sky shades of saffron…amber…pomegranate…as it bids goodnight to the sandstone cliffs and the hot sand.

We arrived at the desert’s edge, with daylight to spare, where we would transfer to our “off road vehicles” to venture across the sand. There were no roads to be seen (unless you consider random tire tracks a road), just craggy red mountains in the distance surrounded by sloping waves of fine red sand that seemed to have no end. Our “off-roaders” were…well…let’s say not exactly the vehicle one might expect. Or capacity planned at all. They were simply beaten down old four-wheel drive Toyota pickups. Three for us to ride in the back on makeshift benches, the two quad-cab interiors saved for the luggage…which wasn’t enough room. It was comical to watch these guys figure out how to arrange and shove all the bags into the trucks, yelling at each other in Arabic, so none of us knew exactly that they were saying. At one point, they suggested Brian just hold onto his on the roof of the cab. 

And then we set out across the sand in a three-jalopy caravan, sometimes in a neat row, and at times the individual drivers taking their own path. Driving on the sand gave the ride a floating sensation (unsettling), and then the sand would give way to harder earth, the bumps and turns tossing us about in the back of the truck. Hold on! The drivers clearly knew how to drive in these conditions, which was comforting, and in spite of one truck billowing clouds of black smoke as the gears shifted, we resigned ourselves to the less-than-comfortable situation. But then…it was obvious that our truck was having transmission problems. Downshifting was not quite working. The truck stalled. Twice. They only got it started by putting it in reverse, rolling it backwards down a slope, and popping the clutch, at which point forward gears could engage. We were, it seemed, in the middle of nowhere. Would we ever make it to our camp?!

At this point it was clear that we would not get to the camp in time for sunset but we caught it from the back of the trucks. No purples and blues here, just the colors of the desert. The colors of the sand and the hills…tans and yellows and oranges and reds and browns. The air smelled of cardamom and paprika and other spices, or was that a trick of the brain? It looked and felt…Arabian, if that makes any sense.

We continued our version of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride in the fading desert heat, fortunately made cooler by a slight breeze. And we kept going. And going (the truck’s transmission cooperating, thankfully). We would see the occasional camp ahead in the distance and think surely that was ours…as we drove right on by. Finally, under the cover of darkness and what seemed like an eternity, our butts sore from the bouncing, patience worn thin, and hands tired from holding on, we arrived at Aicha Camp.

Our “rooms” were these really cool geodesic domes, outfitted with creature comforts like air conditioning and full bathrooms, and with interiors designed like a sultan’s private chambers. Or perhaps it was more like the interior of Genie’s bottle? No matter how you describe it, a unique experience for sure. We are not roughing it, by any means.

We settled in, had a bountiful buffet dinner in the communal dining hall, complete with BYOB wine we had picked up earlier in the day. Jordan is 90% Muslim, so no alcohol, and where it is served (hotels, some restaurants), don’t expect much. We later checked out the hookah lounge, which was ornate and adorned on every possible surface, while also being built into the hillside such that part of the roof was the mountain. So cool. Smoking hooka is a big thing in Jordan. It’s very common, and it seems like you can do it anywhere. There were even people by the pool puffing away at our hotel in Aqaba – but I digress…

The next morning we were happy to hear our guide had taken care of the jalopy problem, and we were in much nicer, fully functioning trucks. Still on makeshift benches in the back but well-covered with a canopy to protect from the scorching rays that beat down from above. And we set out to explore, following a path only the locals know. As far as the eye can see, in all directions, the blue sky meets the cliffs, or in between them, it makes its way to the sandy horizon. There is no evidence of life to speak of. It is hot and dry and while the earth looks dusty and soft, it is a finely ground stone that if caught in a windstorm would rub your skin raw. 

We lumbered along, taking it all in, came over a gentle slope and then stopped…to see 2,000 yr old carvings in the hillside rock. They told of a caravan…traders and their camels. Did they signal a trading route? One of safe passage? Or was it simply ancient graffiti left by those who stopped here for the night? It remains a mystery…one of many secrets this land holds close.

Roll the tape forward a couple thousand years…to 1917 or so…and in this desert you’ll come across Lawrence of Arabia. Not such a mystery but you can still feel there are secrets about him held by this desolate land. An understandably popular site to see is the dwelling (elaborate by desert standards) that he stayed in. The many visitors have taken to building rock sculptures…trying their hand at conquering the laws of gravity with balance. The stacked rocks are strangely intriguing, and there are so many. It made me wonder what would be said about these piles 2,000 years from now…what significance would be placed upon them? Just moments ago, did we ascribe significance to the camel carvings when maybe they were just…for fun?

Our next stop was “the bridge.” It’s a natural formation just begging to be climbed. Put this one on the list of “would never be allowed in the US,” right next to the Wadi Mujib canyoning adventure. So climb we did! The sandstone has some grip to it, and over the years there are indentations made in the rock that help with the climb. Then again, those indentations are slippery when filled with sand…it was scary and exhilarating and we kept saying “go slow and be sure-footed with each step…you’ll be fine. Those people up there did it, so can you.” And then when you get up the lower section, the first thought is “how the hell will I get down?!” Keep going along the edge, turn sideways to squeeze through some crevices, and you’re on top. The bridge itself is only about 3 feet wide, and it’s higher than the picture makes it look, but you have to go out on it. You pause. You can’t stop now. Your heart races a bit, and you take a step. This is literally breathtaking…

Not far from the bridge, Fadi made good on his promise of a bedouin lunch and coffee under the shade of a sandstone wall. The lunch had been made somewhere else, but we got a sense of what it might have been like to be living in these conditions, seeking shade whenever possible, and making do with very little…nothing more than a fire pit. The bedouin coffee is very different – more of a mulled tea/coffee with cardamom, and you only drink a small amount. Lunch was a traditional chicken and rice dish called Maqluba, which means upside-down, as the pot it’s cooked in is inverted to serve it. Absolutely delicious (and I must try to make it).

After a bit of chill time admiring the incredible scene around us, we packed ourselves back into the trucks and headed for our final adventure of the day – camel rides! A bit hokey, admittedly, but we couldn’t come to this part of the world and not ride a camel. We each got assigned a kneeling/seated, smelly beast, swung a leg over and wiggled into the saddle, attempting some level of comfort on the pile of rugs and cushions held together by who knows what. Pretty much on command, the camel stands up awkwardly while you hope you don’t fall off; it’s a very strange motion. We wandered around for a while, the camels led by some guides including a six-year old on take-your-son-to-work day. Bobb got the mama camel whose really cute calf trotted along, weaving its way in and out of the herd, mama occasionally calling to it in a low groan. The group lumbered along in an odd, sort of bumper-camels way, as it seems even for the camels, walking in the deep sand is awkward. It was hard not to feel sorry for them, even knowing that this is land they have walked for thousands of years. 

A full day of amazing desert exploration and a pungent camel ride left us eager to get on the road to Aqaba…a city on the edge of the Red Sea…beckoning us to enjoy its cool waters.

Hollywood Note:  Indeed, Wadi Rum is the site of many well known films. Not just Lawrence of Arabia but also two Star Wars pics, The Martian, Dune, Prometheus, Aladdin…and many more.