Camel in the desert
Of all the things I expected to find wild camping on an Omani mountainside, an invitation to dinner was not on the list. But finding the unexpected is what happens when you pitch a tent 3000ft high in the Jebel Akhdar mountains.
Their beauty is wild and austere. By day, you can see for miles and miles across hundreds of dragon-teeth ridges – but we had arrived after dark, following a drive along a dirt track with a hair-raising gradient. In the flickering glow of a single camping light, the mountains now appeared inimical and inhospitable.
Lost, we’d stopped the car to watch the sunset. Our feet crunching on rubbly grey gravel was the sole sound as we took in the crags beneath a citrine sky. The only way was up we decided.
A few miles further along the knife-edge track, a small compound erupted into view. A mother with children clutching her abaya covered her head as we approached and pointed out the direction we should have taken to reach the road. Far below us, the nearest town glittered on the slopes: too late to turn back, we forged on into the encroaching darkness.
Wild camping, pitching a tent on public land, is legal in Oman. And it’s the best way to explore. The sheer variety of terrain – the sculpted dunes of the desert sands, the jagged drama of the towering mountains – means you’re spoilt for choice.
Logistically it’s not difficult either: an infrastructure of decent dual carriageways, cheap fuel and plenty of companies from which to rent camping equipment make it eminently doable.
But best of all, away from the orchestrated experience of the much-promoted tours and beach resorts, you’re free to connect directly with the land and the real experiences hiding within it.
Finding the unexpected is what happens when you pitch a tent 3000ft high in the Jebel Akhdar mountains
This was never more apparent than when my partner and I found ourselves battling to start our barbecue on our first night on an inky precipice in the Jebel Akhdar mountains.
Formed by the underwater tectonic push and shove of bygone millennia, the Al Hajar mountain range spans much of the country from east to west. Granite rocks are hoved into sharp peaks largely naked of vegetation.
Surprisingly, though, this seemingly inimical terrain is a popular spot for Omanis wanting to escape the city – and we were lucky that further up the plateau a group of friends had taken an interest in our plight. “We saw you pitching your tent,” said one of the men, Marhoon, who came down the slope to talk to us, “so we cooked extra food for you”.
Hospitality is intrinsic to Omani culture and they wouldn’t hear of us not joining them
If what we were doing was wild camping, what they were having was an extreme picnic. They’d arrived at the mountaintop kitted out with enormous cooking pans, gas cylinders, fuel-powered hob, wicker floor mats and a massive water butt.
Then they slaughtered a sheep, built a campfire and cooked up traditional lamb stew, barbecuing the offal. This was a lads’ night out Omani style and, as camping suppers go, we were in for a feast. Hospitality is intrinsic to Omani culture and they wouldn’t hear of us not joining them.
Internationalism sits alongside a patriotic traditionalism in Oman. Mahoon’s brother-in-law told us how much he misses his son, one of seven children, studying medicine in England.
“Every week we have a family meal and every one of my children is expected to come – they need a good excuse if they don’t.”
Others spoke passionately about recent advances in Oman society, brought in by Sultan Qaboos. “All of this was unreachable 40 years ago,” said Mahoon, gesturing across the hills and gullies. “No roads or electricity – nothing. He has changed our lives.”
The evening finished with dates and spiced tea. Then, with industrious alacrity, they packed everything away onto flat bed trucks and inched their way down the mountain road. And we were left, once again, to the solitude of the mountains.
Wild camping is one of the best things to do in Oman.
