donkeys and dark showers in misfah

The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/ Are of equal duration. A people without history/ Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/ Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/ On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/ History is now and England
T S Eliot, Little Gidding, Four Quartets

October 2004

I'm lying under a juniper tree on a spot more than 2000m high, up in Oman’s Western Hajar range. This little oasis of level ground at the crest of the mountain, with its stunted olives and windblown junipers, is Birkat Sharaf. The mountain falls down a few hundred metres ahead and behind me into the wadis of Misfat and Sahtan. I am at its highest point in between after hiking up at dawn, with the prospect of another equally steep descent just ahead.

After hours of climbing, we have no appetite for the journey down just yet. It’s beautiful up here, with an almost Mediterranean feel to it, and a water pool and stone room for company. Winds blow in across the two wadis, rustling the leaves above. In the old days, this used to be the resting point for people travelling between the interiors and the coast, a vital trade route that was the lifeline for many years.

Our journey started from the little village of Misfat al Abriyeen, a warren of houses clinging to the hillside. The settlement of little more than a thousand was fast asleep when we got there after dark. The only sounds were the rustle of date palms and banana fronds, against the ever-present backdrop of rushing water through the falaj. Sitting on an ancient trade route, the word misfat means 'from a distance.' And distant it certainly is. We got there by driving southwest out of Muscat, down highways 1, 15 and 21, through Nizwa and Al Hamra, which lies just beneath it. Misfat seemed like a fairytale in the dark, with its winding pathways and houses almost piled on top of each other. You will find no level ground here - you have to go either up or down. Abriyeen is the predominant family name here, and we stayed with one such household for the night. Tired and dirty from exploring the surrounding slopes, we jumped at the chance to have a shower in the falaj and it turned into quite an experience.

It all starts mid-slope, where water channelled from kilometres away gushes out into a stone chamber. It was night and the inside was pitch black. After very detailed directions, we got in one after another, taking turns to bathe in the room barely four feet long and three feet wide, with the stream of mountain water gushing in from one end. It has a little wooden hangar to keep one's clothes on, a niche cut into the rock to hold soap and a little square stone that juts out of the water where you can stand and undress. It's all terrifically planned, but if you're new to it you'll be groping in the dark, half-afraid of what you might find. Of course, the inevitable will happen and you'll feel something against your legs or come across something in the stream, but it would most likely be nothing more dangerous than a leaf.

After surviving the intricacies of bathing, we headed back to the traditional house for a meal that started with kahwa and dates and graduated to very rich and sweet halwa, washed down with even more kahwa. We were quite full with all this, only to realise, to our consternation, that dinner hadn't even started. There was Omani bread and chicken curry to follow and we stuffed ourselves knowing we'd need all the energy we could summon for the hike over the next couple of days. Little did we suspect another helping of the halwa for breakfast the next morning, heated up with egg for added effect.

We were up at the crack of dawn the next day, piling on as many provisions as we could on top of a donkey we'd hired for the trek uphill. You will need to set off from the other side of Misfat, heading north, following the trekking path marked by paint upon rock. Leaving the plantations behind, you will immediately find yourself in a steep, narrow wadi. Cross over and make your way to the top. This is the steepest part of the journey, and the most trying. After a little while, the donkey path parts way with the hiking trail. Your way will get steeper than your transport's, but it is much shorter. Halt as many times as you need to, you have a long way to go. Once you climb above the wadi, you'll find yourself on more level ground, gently sloping to the north. Follow the ridge of the plateau you'll find yourself on, walking towards barking dogs and a little cluster of stone rooms. The rock on the way is crisscrossed with deep cuts, like someone had taken a knife and carved it all up. Look down into the slate grey and you'll find zillions of tiny fossils, writhing about in timelessness.

We would've started writhing about ourselves, if we hadn't reached the little settlement of Aqabat al Hamra, barely a few families eking out a living on the rock and scrub slopes. You will be invited to sit under the tree for refreshments, and after your hike so far, with the prospect of much more ahead, you will gladly accept. Walk on north from here, hiring another donkey from the villagers if you need more water, or don't feel up to lugging your rucksacks all the way. The path will get steeper as you move on, and up ahead will be a stone room and a patch of shade, a great place for a little meal and rest. As you climb higher, you'll soon hit a run of level ground, with the mountains opening up to you in the distance. There's Al Qannah, or Jebel Shams to your left, and a peak with a radio antenna to your right. Head for the V-shaped meeting point of the slopes in-between for Birkat Sharaf. The incline picks up again, but it's so much easier now that you can see your destination. Besides, you're above most things, with great views of the mountainsides of rock, scrub and an increasing number of gnarled trees sloping away behind you.

After about five to seven hours from Misfat, depending on how fast you hike, you'll make it to Birkat Sharaf, the best place to rest along the entire way. Some people carry on down the other side, but this is really pushing it, for the journey down is quite demanding. It is also ignoring the best part of the trip, which is a night under the stars at the highest point between the wadis. Walk on from the little pool of water and stone room, and you will find the crest of the mountain maybe 50m ahead. Sit here and look upon Wadi Sahtan, spread out against the unfolding evening below. Your trek down the next morning will be long and hard, up to 11 hours long.

Walk on from the little pool of water and stone room, and you will find the crest of the mountain maybe 50m ahead. Sit here and look upon Wadi Sahtan, spread out against the unfolding evening below. Your trek down the next morning will be long and hard. Carry lots of water, set off early and make sure you have arranged with your guide for a car to pick you up when you reach down. For now, though, the soft evening is enough. Spend it amongst the juniper and the olives, with a wood fire, perhaps. You will sleep well, in the hospitality of a place that has welcomed travellers for thousands of years.

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