DESERT DREAMS
BY JOHN RULER ©
Good on yer, Lawrence !
I am sure it was his desert dreams and that award-winning film that drove me on as our party of nine rode through Jordans Wadi Rum, donning white cotton kuffiyehs to shade our faces from the fierce desert sun even in late October.
And it was not just the thrill of riding sturdy Arab horses amid multi-coloured sand dunes, dwarfed in places by mammoth granite, basalt or sandstone mountains, some 800 metres (2640 feet) high. It was sleeping nightly in the open under a stage set of stars.
The only sound was that of horses snorting quietly or munching the remaining strands of alfalfa which helps sustain them for the 15 to 18 miles (25 -30 kms) covered daily. This and the evening sing-song and storytelling round the campfire sets the pattern for five days riding in an Old Testament setting.
Even pre-ride nerves among our group - seven women and two men - were quickly dispelled as the horses were allocated at base camp, a long black Bedouin tent, woven from animal hair over many months
We had become Bedouins, dwellers of the desert . And the initial ride in the Wadi Rum - vast, echoing and godlike waxed Lawrence of Arabia in Seven Pillars of Wisdom - loomed large.
The horses have been exercised, but watch out when we reach the sand dunes, warned Ismael Helalat, our guide and mentor from La Beduina Tours.
The sand is soft and deep and theyll try to canter to reach the top.
For around three testing hours, the horses, as much as the riders, found common ground amid a sculptured landscape of pastel coloured sand dunes, some a gritty brown, others yellow and orange.
Two of the riders, who had tackled the terrain before, pranced ahead while others put equestrian skills to the test as we rode towards the Wadi Um Ishrin where Lawrence of Arabia once lived.
During the campfire chatter that evening, a few doubts crept in as to whether ability matched the sheer majesty of the Wadi Rum with its chocolate whirls of weathered mountains. But, despite a few grumbles about jogging horses, everyone - experienced and less so alike - soon settled into their comfortable military style saddles, with an extra strip of padding strapped over the top as a bone soothing bonus .
Some tired quicker than others, opting out of the long, exhilarating optional canters when the sheer power of the desert breed became apparent. But all of us, ranging in age from the late thirties to over 60, and with differing jobs in journalism, teaching, television, pharmacy, fashion design and lecturing were as close knit as only horse riders can be.
You had to be: we all slept together, the sleeping bags and mattresses strewn out under rocky outcrops or on the sand amid clumps of grey-green desert broom. A roll of toilet paper, a black plastic bag and discreet instructions on which rocks were designated Ladies or Gents took care of the ablutions.
No easy pony-trek then, though the ride is suitable for weekend riders to whom the desert awakes a distant dream. And what an awakening !
Each day brought new experiences, helped by early morning briefings by Ismael. History, so often as dry as the desert dust, springs more easily to life, as you follow in the footsteps - or should in be hoofprints - of Lawrence.
My equine companion was Meneam, a nine year old mare , whose gentle disposition and understanding became apparent when I stupidly strained a leg muscle while clambering up a rock on foot. Though fine while resting in the stirrup, a sudden twist on a flat out canter brought a cry of: Slow down please, Im hurting ! Which is just what she did - showing a remarkable insight, I like to believe, into the relationship between man and horse.
She understood English then remarked Ismael impishly, though it no doubt gained him a brownie point for choice of horse. It also meant a scramble for Johns horse when I joined the back-up team in the 4x4 vehicle for a days photography.
Locked in ones own thoughts and fantasies, it is easy to let the landscape, with Saudi Arabia in one direction The Red Sea in the other, to blot out the ancient history as you drift from one wadi (valley) to another.It was left to Ismael to point out temples from the Thamudic period, 2,000 years BC, the influence of the Thamuds powerful cousins, the Nabateans and to explain the ancient rock-carved drawings and graffiti. These record the names of passing travellers many centuries ago.
Ears pricked up as we stopped in Siq Umm Al Tawakey, a narrow canyon dubbed the prison by the Bedouin. It was here in the 1920s that Lawrence met King Feisal, the ruler of Hijaz to discuss the Arab revolt against the Ottoman empire.
He was, after all, one of us - well, up to a point, his austere nature no doubt frowning on the daily feast prepared by our chef Abraham and his team. This began with breakfast of freshly prepared omelettes, along with salads, hummus, tahini, yoghurt and the like. Hot Bedouin style soups and stews were served with in the evening, complete with pitta bread freshly baked on the camp fire.
Beer and Jordanian wine helped comfort weary limbs, as well as providing an alcoholic antidote from copious amounts of bottled water drunk during the day to fend off dehydration. Hot tea was also a boon during lunchtime breaks, never more so when it rained, the first real downpour apparently for a year.Thunder reverberated around the sandstone hills as horses and riders huddled under a convenient outcrop to watch the rare sight of waterfalls being created in front of our eyes.
It also played havoc with the time-table, though overnight stops were easily switched, the main aim being to find somewhere with sufficient shelter should it rain.
All a far cry from Amman, a four hour drive away, where a pre-ride visit to the Royal Jordanian Stud introduced us to the cream in Arab horseflesh, with stallions prancing prima donna fashion. Even Petra, the Rose Red City, whose magic provided a perfect finale, paled against the purity of the desert, the sudden sightings of camels or chatting with Bedouins in their tent while sipping hot sweet tea or cardamom flavoured coffee served from ornate silver pots.
Nor will I forget the night when the sound of singing broke the silence. It was the grooms soothing the horses, restless after the days thunderstorms, a Bedouin lullaby as ancient as the desert itself..
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GETTING THERE
Equitour Tel: 01608 819182 E-mail: louise@equitour. co. uk Website: www.equitour.co.uk features a ten day, nine nights Wadi Rum Tour at £1350, based on a minimum of five riders. Return flights with Royal Jordanian are between £300 and £400.
John Ruler is joint author of Great Riding Holidays (The Compleat Traveller) copies of which are available from him at £12, including postage and package (Send cheque to 24 Hilldown Road, Hayes, Bromley, Kent, BR2 7HX )
John, who has written on the subject for over 30 years reckons to have ridden some 600 horses worldwide.
