My Omani 'holiday' ....

Friday


The day started with me wanting to get at least one photo of a spectacular sunrise, so I was out of bed early and sitting outside in the cold, camera in hand. I got to thinking that we were approaching the end of the tour and ended up wondering where the time had disappeared.


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Without realising it we had put ourselves at the optimum starting position for our last proper riding day. By riding on to the guest house rather than stopping at Nizwa we had more or less made up the time we’d previously lost and were just about back on schedule. Today we had two objectives; the canyons of the Jebel Shams and the Wadi Bani Auf. On the map these two areas are relatively close, but we were expecting some fairly challenging terrain so we’d allowed ourselves a whole day in the region.

The Guesthouse was midway between the two points so as we loaded the bikes we were grinning at the prospect of descending the previous night’s ascent. Breakfasted on omelettes and toast we were ready to go. As we’d expected, the descent was spectacular, the road surfaces were immaculate and the turns all had positive camber. We had to stop for pictures of the views – breathtaking vistas on all sides, simply magnificent.


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At the bottom we turned towards Al Hamra and were directed along a ridiculously circuitous route through the town to get to the Jebel. We bumped into a group of three local lads on MX bikes who had just come down from the Jebel, one of the bikes had fouled a plug and they were struggling to get it fixed.


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A few minutes later they were on their way. A little further the asphalt stopped and the graded surface began. At first it was well prepared, but once we were through the control gates things got a little livelier with unpredictable changes in surface and terrain. Once at the top though we were rewarded with more fantastic views and an unmissable opportunity for more pictures.


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As we retraced our steps, Rob stopped to buy his holiday carpet from a roadside seller – one more for the collection! We carried on through Al Hamra heading for Wadi Bani Auf and found ourselves back at the start of the mountain road up to the Guesthouse, the day was getting better by the minute! We had just as much fun going back over the mountain in daylight, this time we could see where we were going which was a huge bonus.


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As we passed the guesthouse the staff the guys we’d met the night before were standing on the wall waving excitedly as we passed, they must have been able to hear us for some time as the 450’s competition exhaust was very loud indeed. Just a few hundred metres past the Guesthouse the tarmac came to an end and the road to the Wadi began in earnest.


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There was no easing into this track, it was straight into very technical terrain and surface made more challenging by the steep descent into the valley. This was truly spectacular, jagged cliffs with near vertical faces climbing hundreds of feet into the air. The track we were on was cratered and potholed with debris from frequent cliff face falls scattered everywhere. There was also the small matter of an equally precipitous fall to the valley floor several hundred feet below.



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There was no margin for error at all, one slip and it would have been game over, Needless to say we took great care and managed to make the descent without any drama although Rob had been confronted with some very difficult sections to deal with as the surface in some places had been polished smooth and the 990 was a heavy lump to muscle round some of the tighter turns, but he dug deep and got the job done. I was glad to be on board the 450, trust me!



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After around 30km of this track we popped out into a lush green oasis with lots of greenery and palms. The biggest surprise was a football pitch right in the middle of this, full sized and perfectly flat and with two full teams of eleven playing a match! We hadn’t passed more than four or five houses all morning and yet there were all these guys in full kit playing footie – impressive!


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We carried on along the valley and followed the little tributary as it passed a few more settlements and finally joined a wider section of the Wadi. Time had got the better of us again – we were losing light and we had at least another 40km to reach our destination. We thought about setting up camp in the wadi, but as we had some big miles to do the next day we decided to press on. Riding through the wadi in twilight was nothing short of eerie, the bike’s powerful lights casting shadows on the valley sides and the dust was like driving in thick fog, interestingly this particular wadi must be a principal route through the area as the track was cut and prepared in such a way to allow two opposing flows of traffic – in parts it was constructed with a central barrier creating a ‘dual carriageway’ . A little further along we started seeing signs of construction in the roadway and all of a sudden we were rolling on fresh smooth black asphalt. This was a truly bittersweet moment, we were relieved to be out of the uncertainty of the wadi, but the road improvement plan we’d become a part of signalled the end of our off road riding in Oman- there was nothing but tar ahead of us from now until Dubai. We carried on through the roadworks, dodging oil drum barriers and ignoring ‘Road Closed’ signs until we quite literally popped out from this side road onto the main road just a few hundred metres from our last Omani destination of Rustaq.


We took the first opportunity to refuel and grab a bite to eat before hunting down a bed for the night. A guy at the coffee shop directed us to a hotel close by and after the exertions of the day we weren’t in the mood to be fussy so we rolled in and unloaded without inspection. This place was a dump, without question the least appealing billet we’d had. The place was grubby and quite scruffy with dodgy electrics. The bedding looked clean but wasn’t entirely confident that I’d be the bed’s sole occupant so I broke out the bag liner for the first time of the trip. The bathroom was a revelation; the shower had lost its head and was thus just a pipe hanging from the wall, the Turkish toilet also served as the shower tray, doubtless the shower also doubled up as the toilet’s flush. There was a bird nest wedged into the window which also harboured what appeared to be half of Oman’s mosquito population. +1 for the bag liner!

We’d decided against eating in so strolled over to the supermarket across the road to get some food and a bag of frozen peas for Rob’s ankle. We sat under the hotel’s canopy and enjoyed an impromptu meal of crisps, coke and Bombay mix. Classy!



Some misc pics....


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Saturday


This was our last day. We had no expectations of this part of the journey and the plan was simple enough – Rustaq up to Yankul, then over to Dank to pick up the highway to Al Ain with the last drag into Dubai to drop the bikes back at KTM UAE in the late afternoon.
We set out early and without risking the hotel’s breakfast, but even at that time the temperature was over 25C and very humid. We needed to get moving to get some cooling airflow through the suits so there was no hanging around. The mountains around Rustaq were quite impressive and after a half hour or so we stopped for a few pictures riding around a shale filled outcrop.


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We took off again but after 30km or so Rob spotted a fantastic area for a few more pics, an undulating track set at the base of a cliff with deep blue skies above – it would have been impossible to ignore so we took a few minutes to explore it and ended up staying there for about an hour. Rob took this chance to jump on the 450 for a quick ride so I put my camera to one side and grabbed his to take some long shots of him coming up the track. Pics done we got back onto our respective bikes and back onto the highway passing a dead dog lying at the side of the road.



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The next planned stop was the old Town Fort at Yanqul about 60km north.
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We had another impromptu picture stop before arriving at the fort, as this was a leisure stop we were quite relaxed about the time and were both looking forward to exploring this historic building.


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I reached into my tank bag for my Canon to find ..... nothing! My heart sank as I realised that as we were messing about with the bikes at the cliff I’d not picked up my camera from the side of the track before getting back on the 450, what a disaster!! I confessed my sin to Rob expecting a hail of rebuke as a just reward for my crass stupidity, instead he just looked at me and said “We better get a move on then – what are you waiting for?”

All the way back I was kicking myself for being such a cock, worrying about the loss of the imagery on the camera, whether or not I’d be able to claim on my travel insurance for the camera without first reporting the loss to the local police, realising that we had only seen two or three police cars during our entire trip so I was unlikely to be able to file a report anyway, the impact on the day’s schedule and the by now real possibility of missing the guys at KTM. All those things were in my mind as I ticked off the landmarks I remembered. As we passed the dead dog I knew we were close and started to look out for the obscure turn into the small wadi. I saw Rob swerve into the side of the road which meant that there was only another 750 metres of the track to go. That last stretch went by a lot quicker than the first time round, it’s amazing how a little adrenaline improves your riding skill! I had no expectations at all that we’d find the camera, it had been well over two hours since we’d left, but as we approached the corner we’d stopped at before I saw Rob’s fist punch into the air – the camera was still there!! What a result!! I was so relieved I almost kissed big old Rob, but that might have pushed our friendship a bit far so I just slapped him on the back instead.

With the Canon safely stowed we headed back to the road and passed the dead dog for the third and last time that day. This time we cut out the Yanqul/Dank part of the loop and headed for the highway north at Ibri.


By now the trip really was just about over, with nothing but highway between us and Dubai. We made one last stop for Rob’s pictures of the Edox – memorable only because we had to ride 500m the wrong way down the hard shoulder to get back to the crossing point.


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By now it was hot, the 990’s thermometer was reading 37C and we were sweating hard so the pictures were taken without undue fuss. Another 500m up the hard shoulder saw us heading back in the right direction, north for the border at Al Ain. This time the formalities were simple, took only a few minutes and were completely cash free. After the week’s experience the highway up to Dubai was dull and monotonous. We soon started to see signs for Abu Dhabi where the urban sprawl soon began and became almost continuous with the expanding construction of Dubai bleeding inexorably into the desert.


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Before long we began to see the cityscape of Dubai on the horizon, the unmistakable spike of the Burj al Arab tower spearing into the sky. Rob’s last objective was to get one final picture, a photograph of the bikes taken at the base of the Burj. As had happened on almost every day so far we started to run out of daylight, but this time the sky was showing the promise of a truly spectacular sunset, with pink and orange flecks appearing high in the strato cloud in the sky. We hit downtown Dubai right in the middle of rush hour, the traffic was insane with cars surrounding us on all quarters. We got frustratingly close to the tower, but missed a turn on one circulatory system that put us on the wrong side of the urban highway that bisects the city. We weren’t going to make it to the tower in time that we’d keep the beautiful light so reluctantly we took the off ramp from the Sheikh Zayed Road that lead us back to KTM’s showroom.


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Mark was waiting for us as we rolled up to the showroom doors, the sound of the Rallye’s exhaust booming between the buildings and a moment later the mighty 450 was quietly parked on the pavement. The guys from the rest of the team came out to meet us, and were amazed as we started to unpack our bikes, spreading our stuff on the forecourt especially as no one had used a Rallye for a trip like this before. I have to confess that, yes it was impressive!

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As I replaced the seat back on the 450’s rear sub-frame it dawned on me that I’d only ridden the bike while it was loaded. Now it was in front of me, stripped of its payload and as light as it was designed to race. I didn’t even try to resist temptation as I swung my leg over the saddle once more, pressed the starter button and brought the bike came back to life beneath me for one last hurrah. 20kg might not sound much, but without the weight of the luggage I was carrying the 450 was transformed. I slipped it into first gear and gassed it down the side road. All I could hear was the piercing twitter of the FCR41 and the bark of the unbaffled Akra race can as the bike lunged forward, the front wheel skipping on the tarmac at the merest whisper of throttle. I turned the bike for the last time and rode it along the pavement outside the showroom. My time with the 450 was finally over and I was really going to miss it. As we loaded our kit into the taxi I watched the bikes being wheeled into the showroom, still caked in the dust from the sands of Wahiba and the mud of the Wadi Bani Auf. Now the journey truly was over.

Back at the hotel we showered and scrubbed ourselves and changed into ‘civvies’ for the first time in over a week. Rob went out to get medication for his leg and came back grinning as he’d been cheekily propositioned by a couple of Chillipino girls asking if he wanted a ‘massage’, but I don’t think they were offering a relaxing 15 minutes of neck and shoulders if you get my drift. I took the opportunity to wash my boots as the soaking they’d got in the sea on the first day had left them – and my feet – stinking like a stagnant swamp and I wasn’t sure how well that would go down on the flight home. We went out for dinner and had our last meal of kebabs and humus in a hot and humid Dubai street cafe.

Sunday – No pictures !!

We were up early, packed and ready to go. My boots were still wet and still stank which was going to be bad news for my fellow passengers! We had a quick transit to the airport where there were no dramas, no misplaced passports, just 3 sets of security where I had to take the Tech7s off – my feet were grateful of the airing! We took full advantage of Rob’s BA Executive Lounge pass again, their coffee really was very good indeed. Our flight was called and once we were installed on the plane we grabbed a couple of spare seats so that Rob could stretch his bad leg. The Tech7s were stowed in an overhead locker and I denied any responsibility for them for the duration of the flight. I settled in for the flight, and happily knackered I wrote the last few words of my journal and reflected back over the previous 8 days. What a fantastic week, in a stunning country with a brilliant riding partner and memories that will last a lifetime.

Post Script.

Our arrival back in the UK was a bit of a shocker. We’d left Dubai in temperatures around the mid 30’s but landed in London on a dank and gloomy day where the temperature didn’t break 3C. We were both struck by the contrast between the relaxed freedoms of the Omani road system and the levels of control and direction that we have on our narrow crowded roads. Rob drove me back to the station in Reading and helped me with my bags onto the platform. The platform was closed for work and a plastic barrier prevented me getting to where I was due to catch the train. To get to the other side of the barrier meant a 500 yard detour around the outside of the station, not easy when you’re lugging the baggage I was carrying. I arrived on the other side of the barrier to see my train disappearing down the tracks. Bollocks.
 


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