Jordan > Night sandstorm

During the night, things get quite rough. A strong wind has picked up. I burrow deeper into my sleeping bag and pull the hood over my head to keep sand out of my eyes. At three o’clock I wake up again. The wind is still howling. In the distance, you can hear the whirlwinds rising and drawing closer. When the wind sweeps over our sleeping spot, a wave of sand and small stones scatters across us. When I cautiously peek out of my sleeping bag, I notice that some have fled indoors. I weigh whether I should look for my shoes and clothes and head inside as well. Everything is probably filled with sand anyway. I decide to stay put and crawl back under my sleeping bag—just in time for the next wave of sand. Fortunately, my sleeping bag is nice and warm. In the morning, it turns out that no one has really slept well because of the wind. Even in the tents, it was difficult; the side flaps blew high up in the air, and sand whirled through the tent. Still, it was quite a funny experience, such a night. After breakfast, we load the luggage back into the Jeep. This Jeep drives directly to the next campsite, while we get into two other Jeeps for a drive through the Wadi Rum desert. Despite the cool wind in the open vehicle, the Wadi Rum desert looks magnificent. Wadi Rum is a desert valley with cliffs of sandstone and granite—the most beautiful desert plain in Jordan. Our first stop is the Khaz’ali Canyon. Just after we step out, we can barely turn around before a sandstorm sweeps over us. Luckily, I managed to stow my camera just in time. My small camera, which stayed outside overnight, struggles more with the sand. There must be grains stuck in the lens—it won’t fully open anymore. Inside the canyon, there are rock carvings made by the desert’s ancient inhabitants.

Jordan - A campfire with the Bedouins in Wadi Rum

People lived here as early as prehistoric times. A bit further on, we stop at the “Little Bridge,” a natural stone arch formed in the rock. Naturally, we climb up for a quick photo session. In the south of Wadi Rum stands the Um Frouth Rock Bridge, a higher stone arch about fifteen meters tall. The rock faces are steep and seem impossible to climb. When our guide challenges me to try, I assume he’s joking. I follow him a few meters upward and realize we can cross diagonally—there’s a crevice between the rocks that allows us to climb further. A moment later, I’m standing on top of the Rock Bridge. The way down isn’t too bad; though it’s quite steep, it’s easier than expected. From the viewpoint at the Burdah Rock Bridge, we continue to our lunch spot. We find a sheltered place among the rocks, unpack our lunches, and, of course, tea is served. In the afternoon, we drive northward. We visit Lawrence’s House—the place where Lawrence of Arabia supposedly lived—view more rock inscriptions, and stop at the highest sand dune in Wadi Rum. The dune rises a hundred meters high. We climb along the ridge, sinking a few centimeters with every step, which makes it quite strenuous. From the top, we have a wonderful view over the valley; the Jeeps below look tiny. On the summit, we take a “jumping photo.” The descent is faster than the climb—we run down the slope through the soft sand, laughing. Soon everyone is back at the bottom, brushing the sand from their shoes. From there, we drive to the campsite for our second night. The tents are set in a valley surrounded by high cliffs. The site is less sheltered, so I decide to sleep indoors tonight—strong winds are forecast again. Eventually, everyone makes the same choice. Because of the expected wind, dinner is served a bit earlier. It’s another fine buffet. I’ve signed up for a balloon flight over Wadi Rum tomorrow morning, though it’s uncertain whether it will go ahead due to the weather. The signs don’t look promising. If it does, we’ll be woken at five. After dinner, we sit around the campfire. The campsite owner joins us, along with a few other men. Our cook demonstrates how to bake bread directly on the coals. The freshly baked bread tastes delicious. By half past eight, I’ve had enough—it’s cold in the wind, and I’m tired. I crawl into my sleeping bag and fall asleep almost instantly, not really expecting the balloon flight to happen.