Flogging a Dead Camel: Wadi Rum

The next morning and with me resembling a biblical plague victim, we departed Wadi Musa for Wadi Rum.  The drive was across a desert highway, the roadside strewn with rubbish.  Lying fat out on The Beach, looking up to the stars I could not help but notice the number of plastic bags floating hundreds of metres up in air.

Upon arrival at Wadi Rum we transferred to three awaiting Toyota 4x4s and driven into the searing desert by local guides.  To put it bluntly, our guide was an arrogant twat who was more intent on perving on the female members of our group than delivering a tour.  He wasn't alone.  We found that, particularly in Jordan but also in Egypt, tour guides and others involved in the tourism trade (always men) were almost without exception desperate boorish letches whose main priority was to sleaze onto female tourists.  Anyhow.  We drove to several locations to do some sand boarding, and then to observe ancient rock etchings which served as critical information points for the camel caravans which, for thousands of years, moved people and goods between the Levant and the Hejaz.  The maps contained directions to various oasis, as well as warnings about dangerous animals such as snakes.  We also went to an oasis which was critical to T E Lawrence and his overrated ego-and-libido-driven guerilla campaign against the Turks; as well as Lawrence's HQ which had been reconstructed for the movie starring Peter O'Toole.  Lastly, we went to a natural rock arch from where we could view the stunning scenery.

4x4 action in Wadi Rum

Zoe going sandboarding, Wadi Rum

View from TE Lawrence's HQ

Atop a natural arch, Wadi Rum

The crew clambering on the Natural Arch, Wadi Rum

Someone with a sense of humour

Returning to Twiga we headed back along the highway for a couple of miles, then turned off the highway onto a dirt road.  Another mile or so along the dirt road, Colin turned onto a salt pan and purposely got the Twiga bogged.  Hilarious stuff.  So, for the next hour or so, the guys got to display their manly skills - digging out the sand from around the wheels and axles and placing sand ladders to assist traction.  After a couple of attempts and to the cheers of all, we moved the truck onto solid ground.  All fun stuff.  We reboarded and drove on to another, more solid, salt pan where we were to set up bush camp for the night.  This was our favourite bush camp.  After performing our assigned duties, Ian produced a cricket bat and ball.  So we cracked open a couple of beers and played backyard cricket for a couple hours in the later afternoon sun.

Mike getting pumped about digging Twiga out

Hannah and Tanzin helping out

The team pushing with Mike lending encouragement

Setting up camp, Wadi Rum

Couple of sundowners and a game of cricket, Wadi Rum

The next morning we were woken early by Mike and Brad cooee-ing from atop a nearby rocky outcrop and rolling huge boulders from the summit.  When they returned to camp they revealed a tooth that they'd extracted from what they described as a "dead camel".  Curious, Zoe and I decided to check out this "dead camel".  And what an odd looking camel it was.

Dawn at Wadi RUm

The "Camel"

From Wadi Rum the truck took us to the coastal Red Sea town of Aquba.  We spent the afternoon in Aquba stocking up on supplies then lounging around at a local hotel's pool.  We were in the long wait for the ferry to Egypt.

Just a side note: We found Jordan to be a very different place to Syria and to Lebanon.  Jordanian people and culture seemed to lack the personality of that of Syria.  Comparatively, Jordan was expensive and fully exploitive of tourists and its cultural landmarks.  The food was blander, the architecture more "functional"; the people less kind and more eager to make a quick buck.  It's not that I didn't enjoy Jordan, it's just that if they didn't inherit the Red Sea, Wadi Rum and Mount Nebo from nature and Petra from the Hellenistic Nabataeans, it wouldn't be a place that offers much else.