Patches of Nowhere in the Jaalan

Oh, where the white quince blossom swings / I love to take my Japan ease! / I love the maid Anise who clings / So lightly on my Japan knees; / I love the little song she sings, / The little love-song Japanese. / I almost love the lute's tink-tunkle / Played by that charming Jap Anise— / For am I not her old Jap uncle? / And is she not my Japan niece?
Oliver Herford, Japanesque, 1919

March 2006

We’re in search of the sea, but the sand we’re kicking up is more desert than beach, and up ahead is only loose rock over sand, and rock rising up toward sky. We must be very near the ocean, for the road that we left, turning south down Oman’s easternmost edge, hugs the coastline. The only problem is that it is too restricted north from here – at Ras al Jinz – and too open to other visitors further south. Somehow, somewhere, the key to an exceptional experience lay in finding a track that cuts through in between. The few false starts that always ended in impassable sand or rock weren’t too bad – a landscape devoid of humans, that got mellow with dunes and shrubs, with the ever present promise of open water somewhere over the horizon.

That promise was enough motivation to take the plunge and plough through alarmingly soft sand. And then, as we dug into four wheel drive and barely managed it over the next crest, we landed back on hard ground, and a sudden Bedu settlement called Al Hora. You couldn’t even call this a village – just a cluster of houses hammered together, a few wild children rummaging around the sand, and a couple of pickups parked in the dust. At the time the only sign of help was a lone Bedu walking between the huts, and he pointed vaguely across the village to a blank landscape that led to the sea. We were complete strangers who had practically driven straight into their home, but his son – Ali al Harbi – immediately clambered into the 4WD to guide us through. Of course, we had to stop at the next house to pick up his best friend, and when the door opened Ali’s kid brother tried to clamber in, to violent protests from the elder Bedu. After threats, pleadings – even Ali rummaging through our vehicle for a stick to thwart the little one’s efforts – peace was made. All of us, Bedu and expatriate alike, crammed ourselves in and bounced over the landscape towards the coast.

We hit the edge of the cliff barely ten kilometres on, the harsh, broken rock opening up to reveal achingly blue sea. At the last point, where the land rises to a final crest before falling vertically down to the beach far below, stood a little room of a mosque, and a lone pickup. Both were empty of occupants, and when we walked to the edge we saw a Bedu couple walking down an empty beach, mere dots on the sand. The only way you can get to this vast stretch of sand – absolutely pristine and unknown – is to drive till the cliff and then walk down a path to the side. Though just south of Turtle Beach, this isn’t a continuation of the same stretch, for it, and the series of deserted beached we found south from here, are shut off from the outside world by cliffs that surround them. They’re only open to the sea, and you could come here, stay overnight and swim utterly, completely alone. In a few minutes, the only trace of humans down below us would be Bedu footprints in the sand.

One after the other, beach lead on to more beach, each desolate stretch of sand and sparkling blue separated from the other by cliffs. Our third beach was accessible by 4WD, and it rewarded us with the leftover signs of turtles – tracks leading to the sea, from nest hollows. The sheer size of these depressions in the sand is awe inspiring, but you’d have to wait well after dark to see the mothers emerging after laying their eggs. Instead, we made do with rocks of surreal shapes, some encrusted with marine life, others covered in algae.

But these mossy rocks and deserted beaches are just the tip of the iceberg. They’re the outer fringes of a largely unknown, unexplored area called Jaalan. North of the northernmost dunes of the Sharqiya, east of the eastern edge of the Hajar and south of the dhows of Sur and the nesting turtles of Ras al Jinz, the Jaalan is a region more known for the geography it borders than for itself. So what exactly is this area, and where is it spread over?

You are most likely to have seen the word on signposts that you whiz past, rushing towards Al Ashkharah on the coat, or Wadi Bani Khalid further inland. Two towns sit together in between, beside each other in seeming solidarity: Jaalan Bani Bu Ali and Jaalan Bani Bu Hassan. No one really seems to stop by, and these settlements have never gone beyond being strange names on the map. But older maps, no longer in publication, print a larger ‘JAALAN’ in addition to these towns. These widely spaced letters arc north and east, hinting at desert scrubland, the beginnings of mountains and an anonymous coastline of deserted cliffs and beaches.

Not many other places offer you this range of terrain and possibilities, and none are so close to Muscat while still being so obscure. The Jaalan, like its inland and coastal Bedu, its scraggly drought-resistant trees and its architecture still alive and triumphant, is like no other. Even its name, unfamiliar to an outside tongue, with a twist in the double ‘A’s, is an acquired taste. Enjoy it, and venture deep to get the most from it. From sea to mountain to desert, this could be everything you ever wanted.



Muscat to Jaalan Bani Bu Hassan

Zero your odometer at the Al Sahwa clocktower roundabout and turn south towards Nizwa
32km turn to Sur
184km turnoff to Wadi Bani Khalid (don’t take this, continue straight)
221km Al Kamil. Turn right for Jaalan Bani Bu Hassan and Ali, and Ashkharah. Shell filling station
227km Turn left at the roundabout
238km Jaalan Bani Bu Hassan, Shell filling station



Sur to Wadi Shakala

Zero your odometer at the Sur Plaza Hotel, and head south
12km Sikekrah, on your left. Interesting ruins near the coast, and lots of shells in the ground
17km Al Ayjah, which you drive through. Park your cars at the main gateway to the town, and climb up the hills overlooking the dhows for fantastic views over the harbour
59km T-junction. Left to Ras al Hadd, right to Ras al Jinz. If you visit Ras al Hadd, your kilometre reading should show 78km back at the junction. From there, take the next left turn for the protected beach at Ras al Jinz. When you’re through, get back to the main road, at 95km, and turn left to continue down the coast
102km Turn left at the little stub of tarmac. Up ahead, slightly to your right, is the Bedu settlement of Al Hora. Ask them for directions, or drive through, following the sandy track to the left. The first beach, with a little mosque on the cliff above, is Al Wattayah. The third beach, where you can drive down in your 4WD, is Al Khaddah. Ask for Ali al Harbi at Al Hora for help.
102km Back to main tarmac road
109km Daffah
126km Ar Ruways, with an Al Maha filling station
129 Turn right to Wadi al Shakala
135km Baushera junction. Keep going straight to Jaalan
175km main road, 15km to Al Ashkharah to your left, 11km to Jaalan Bani Bu Ali to your right



Wadi Saal to Wadi Shakala

Zero your odometer on the road from Jaalan Bani Bu Ali to Al Ashkhara, at the point where you came back onto it after going through Wadi Shakala from Ruways. Turn left at the brown sign in Arabic, that has a little English translation underneath saying 80km to Ras al Hadd
33km Suwayh. 54km left towards Ras al Hadd, 15km right to A’Silah. Turn left for Wadi Shakala
44km Turn left into Wadi Shakala
50km Baushera Large sign pointing to the right, 50km to Jaalan Bani Bu Ali, 12km to Al Jahlah. This is the longer route. Turn right.
112km Tarmac begins
119km Hit highway at Jaalan Bani Bu Ali. 36km left to Ashkharah, 28km right to Al Kamil




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