persian steps

When old age shall this generation waste,/ Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe/ Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,/ "Beauty is truth, truth beauty, ~ that is all/ Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
John Keats, Ode On a Grecian Urn

We're eating lunch 1400m high, sitting on stone steps fitted into the mountainside thousands of years ago. It is early afternoon, but when the sun goes behind a cloud and the wind picks up, it is surprisingly cold. We'd packed light: just the shirts on our backs, a bit of food and enough water to make it to the top - with a total of five hours and 2100m to climb, an extra can of tuna might seem like too much. We have hiked straight up for two hours, with another three to go. Right now, though, it is time to rest. We find nooks and crannies in the rocks and fit ourselves in, lying down on stone that was once seabed. Underneath, little creatures that once roamed the oceans lie in rock, squirming beneath our backs.

But what is most remarkable about this trip isn't the cold, the surrounding peaks or the occasional views deep into the wadis below. The most incredible part of your journey is the path beneath your feet. In the years before the freshly tarred road that now snakes its way up the Saiq Plateau, paths like this one were the only way to get up. And if you thought this was an incredible feat of engineering and effort, know that it is only one of up to 13 different paths that climb right to the top. From the massive dual carriageway that unfurls down the Samail Gap, the mountains to the right seem like part of the scenery at best, the highway like the centre of it all. But from the mountains, you really begin to see things in perspective. The road is a thin line, with the glint of metal as cars race down in the late afternoon sun. On the other side, the Eastern Hajar starts peeping out, picking up where the Western range ends. And on this cold December afternoon, we're part of the landscape, and history. That history can be traced back to the third millennium, and possibly even further, when tracks such as this were part of an intricate system of social and economic alliances. The mountains have always been strategically important, barriers and gateways between the coast and interiors.

It is very quiet up here, except for the occasional, distant rumble of planes above. The longest, steepest stretch of steps ends at the remains of a mosque next to us, little more than a pile of stones now. Rested and fed, we move on, a little disoriented by the lack of steps beyond. We're walking blind, up a gently leaning slope of rock, heading vaguely northeast as our sketch of a map suggests. And then, just when you're not quite sure where to head, you see a cairn up ahead, and then another. We add to the piles of stones, helping the next travellers, continuing a tradition of going beyond oneself that seems to come easily in such landscapes. There's another ruined building at 1700m, and we scrambled over boulders to look down into a slit in the mountain. For such heights that we were on, this hike offers surprisingly few expansive vistas that one would expect. Most of the time, we were surrounded by neighbouring slopes and peaks, patchily lit by a weak winter sun through clouds. There is only one truly grand viewpoint along the way, but we got there as the sun dipped too low behind us, and falling slopes in front disappeared into twilight. A few minutes later and we got to the road, somewhere on the plateau, before it reaches the Jebel Akhdar Hotel. We hitched a ride down to Birkat al Mawz, and then took a taxi to Imti, where we'd left our car. What you could do is hitch a ride, or meet up with friends on the plateau, and spend the night at the hotel. After the climb, clean sheets, hot water and a bed would be well-deserved luxuries indeed.

To do this hike, you'll have to drive down from Muscat, turning south at the Al Sahwa clocktower roundabout, heading down the Samail Gap towards Nizwa. Settlements along the road are signposted, so there's no need to bother with your odometer, or worry about losing your way. Drive past the town of Al Afiah and dirt tracks into Wadi Halfayn to Imti, and take the first turnoff to Birkat al Mawz and Izki, a few kilometres after Al Afiah. It will take you a little more than an hour to get till here. Turn right once you get to a little roundabout, immediately after you get off the highway, and drive on through Qaroot al Janubiyah, into a wadi. Carry on for a few minutes, driving straight ahead until you come across a one-room hut on your right. Park your car here and walk on, into the gorge that opens ahead, slightly to your right. After about 15 minutes of walking around and over boulders, you will see a splash of white paint on the wadi wall to your left, a few metres above. This is the beginning of the famed Persian steps, and all you have to do is walk up them and keep following the ancient pathway. Along the way, you'll have white arrows painted onto rock to guide you, and, further up, piles of stones that you'll have to look out for. When in doubt, climb high, and look out for the cairns. You won't have GSM coverage for most of the way, so conserve your battery and switch off your phone. You may be disappointed if you come expecting grand views or challenging rock faces. What you will cherish, though, is the achievement of climbing the Saiq Plateau, when everyone else is driving up. Add a few millennia of history and effort to the path and you've got yourself a very full, satisfying day out.

< Previous   Next >



© 2001–2008 p i n a k i