Tags: Mike Robinson, Travel - Jordan, Travel - Middle East

Following in T.E. Lawrence’s footsteps

May 24, 2012

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WADI RUM, Jordan, May 24, 2012/ Troy Media/ – ‘Hello – my name is Omar, and this is Oscara,’ he said with a broad smile, pointing to a well-used Toyota Land Cruiser pick-up. Omar is about 30, tall and fit with a close trimmed black beard. He has a red and white keffiyeh wrapped about his head, Bedouin style, and is wearing a black long sleeved tunic over white cotton pants and sandals. ‘Welcome to our Bedouin homeland, Wadi Rum.’

Wadi Rum Protected Area in southwest Jordan has a 700-kilometre circumference, and contains the finest mountain desert landscape in Jordan and probably the world. It is a valley system that is home to the main caravan route from Aqaba to Wadi Arabia, Damascus and the Gulf of Persia. From 1916 to 1918 it was home to T.E. Lawrence, as he built key relationships between the British Army and the Bedouin in the Arab revolt against the Ottoman Empire. Many of the 500,000 global tourists who come here each year are drawn by the Lawrence of Arabia story, and the Bedouin are quick to oblige with a few locally held truths.

Omar, noting that I am traveling with my wife and daughter says, ‘Many people come here because of Lawrence and the 1962 film made about his life starring Peter O’Toole. We remember him as a rare visitor who spoke Arabic. He dressed and traveled like a Bedouin. But he was also a British spy – and not like you.’ By this he meant that Lawrence had no children or wife. ‘He was gay. We can perhaps talk more about him later.’

It was 5 p.m. and time to board Oscara for the 12-mile trip to Starlight Camp. We climbed over the tailgate to ride on bench seats under a canvas sun canopy. It was 34 degrees Celsius, and we were pleased to sit in shade for the trip. Omar jumped into the cab, made a quick cell phone call to his boss Suleiman, and headed out of the Wadi Rum Visitor Centre parking lot. We traveled down Wadi Rum village’s main street until the pavement ended. In front of us stretched a seemingly endless desert flanked by stark red sandstone mountains with ragged and jagged ridges. There was no vegetation in sight. The sky was a marvelous stark blue.

Troy Media’s Robinson of Arabia.

Oscara groaned slowly along a rutted track that occasionally crossed deep dunes of red sand. I was secretly amazed that we didn’t immediately sink down to the axels and get impossibly stuck. At one point Omar sensed that we were losing traction, and he stopped Oscara in mid-dune. He hopped out and methodically rounded the Toyota, letting air out of each tire. Returning to the wheel, he engaged four wheel drive and Oscara powered easily out of the sand trap.

As we approached camp, the enormity of the landscape was striking. Independent peaks rose like islands from the desert ocean as far as you could see. We later learned from Omar that Wadi Rum is an ancient seabed, and the peaks were in fact islands eons ago.

Eventually we rounded a huge dune and came face-to-face with a tight grouping of low-slung green tents. One is much larger than the rest – a kind of communal Bedouin house perhaps? The rest are less imposing, and turned out to be sleeping quarters and the wash- house. The tents are set to form three legs of a rectangle. The west facing fourth leg is a massive rock bluff. This is Starlight Camp.

Omar explained that we are tonight’s only guests. We can sleep on beds or on the floor, Bedouin- style. We elect the floor, and move our sparse gear into tent number 1. The floor, in fact, has mattresses, ticked with horsehair and each provided with a warm duvet. The pillows are hard and sausage-shaped. Candles are provided for evening light. An easy walk across the camp’s sand- floored courtyard takes us to the washhouse with running water (from a hillside cistern) for two sinks and five toilettes. Our host says the camp can accommodate up to 40 guests.

‘It is time for your driver to make dinner. The sun will set soon, so climb the ridge just above camp for the best view. Dinner will be ready in the big tent by 8 o’clock.’ We climbed in a zigzag fashion up the rock bluff and looked down to see Omar, now clad in white cotton pants and shirt, minus his kaffiyeh and black tunic, carrying a big black kettle and firewood to the communal tent. Above us shone Venus, the first planetary star of the evening.

The quality of pre-dusk light was amazing. The hot blue sky was quickly adopting an orange hue as the sun dropped behind the western peaks of Wadi Rum. The desert was silent and a green line now formed on the western horizon. The backlit peaks glowed. I looked at my watch: it was 7:18 P.M.

The smell of chicken and lamb cooking over the fire rose up to us on the bluff, and we looked down to see Omar once again crossing the courtyard with bowls of hummus, mutabai and tomato salad. After a final round of family photographs taken in a cooling breeze, we retraced our steps to the Bedouin camp and entered the communal tent.

Omar poured each of us a glass of black tea with honey. A north facing tent panel had been lifted, and through it we now could see all of the countless reasons this place is named Starlight Camp.

Troy Media columnist Mike Robinson has lived half of his life in Alberta and half in BC. In Calgary he worked for eight years in the oil patch, 14 in academia, and eight years as a cultural CEO. Now back In Vancouver, he is still a cultural CEO, but also has business interests in a resource company and mutual funds.

© Troy Media. Please contact the publisher to inquire about publication rates for this article. 

© Troy Media