Mahmoud decides to wait at the bottom. It’s Ramadan, and his energy levels are flagging – the lack of food permitted in daylight hours and the searing Jordanian sun are both taking their toll on our stout, ageing guide. We check our equipment. It feels strange wearing strong, ankle-level hiking boots in this weather (oh, for a pair of flip-flops), but anything less supportive would be insanity considering the steep, rocky terrain. We’re mindful of keeping hydrated, too, so despite the rules of Ramadan ‘letting nothing pass the lips’, we carry a hydration bladder full of water in our backpacks. Two hours later, exhausted, it has proved to be a wise decision, as was the informed choice of light, breathable clothing.
Ahead lies an arduous trek in search of our ultimate goal – Petra’s mountain-top Monastery. I’m already profoundly awe struck by what I’ve witnessed in the past hour – quite how anything can better that first narrow glimpse, between a 200m-high canyon, of the ornate Hellenistic façade of Al Khazneh (‘the Treasury’) I don’t know – but we’re assured Jordan’s most photographed sight can be trumped if we’re willing to make the effort. We are. My girlfriend and I like to work for our sightseeing. A great view is so much more rewarding if there’s a burn in the thighs confirming you’ve earned it. So, full of nervous anticipation and, unwisely, copious amounts of lunchtime mezze, we set off up the 800-plus steps that were cut into the mountain in the third century BC as the processional route up to what was originally a Nabatean tomb. This great sense of history constantly clings to the air as you explore Petra – I find myself, not for the first time, shaking my head in disbelief as I contemplate what life might have been like when this city was a bustling Middle-Eastern trading hub.
Petra was essentially ‘lost’ from 1189, only inhabited by the local Bedouin people, until 1812, when a Swiss explorer rediscovered it while disguised as a Muslim holy man. Since then, archaeologists have understandably had kittens while excavating the ‘Rose-red city’, revealing more and more to the world as the years pass. It is estimated that, even now, a mere five per cent of the site has been exposed – a statistic to boggle minds.
The hike is tough-going in the oppressive heat, but we feel like we have it easy when we’re, embarrassingly, passed by several donkeys laden with overweight Japanese tourist cargo. Every so often, though, on our twisting ascent through the rock, it’s quite simply necessary to just stop, turn around and take in the view of this ruined city from a distance – a city that was almost entirely carved into natural, rose-coloured sandstone walls, with hardly any free-standing buildings. Imposing, ornate facades tower over the open areas on such a scale that, from where we are, the tourists are no more significant than ants crawling on an ancient sculpture.
Continued...
As we climb higher, our trekking ‘technique’ improves, legs settling into a rhythmic stride and arms pumping in time (I quickly realise that the upper body usage is highly underrated when ascending). Our breathing also adjusts accordingly as the lungs get used to the oppressive heat and thinner air. The path drops away perilously along one side, giving a thorough examination of my stomach for heights, but there’s no turning back at this stage – an innate stubbornness has taken me beyond my comfort zone on many similar adventures. Strangely, perched on the cliff-edge halfway up the mountain is a tourist stall selling drinks and, of all things, chunks of sandstone. I glance fleetingly at our rocky surroundings, bemused, and we press on. At every turn there’s something else to stop for – a gully leading to yet another tomb, a group of goats seemingly using a 900m-high ledge for a social gathering – but we can sense we’re getting closer to our final destination. With renewed vigour, our stride lengthens and the excitement builds until, finally, our efforts are rewarded.
We pay our entrance fee in buckets of sweat, but it’s worth every drop. The crevasse we’ve been hiking through suddenly and dramatically opens up onto a plateau and we gaze up in wonder and disbelief at our bounty: El Dier, or the Monastery. Its columned, 50m by 45m façade dominates the area like the Treasury before it, but this time without the hordes of sightseers who preferred the easy option. The dramatic mountain-top setting for this 2,000-year-old edifice makes it harder to comprehend: Why was it built here? How was it logistically possible? Can I come around that corner and see it for the first time again?
Beyond the Monastery, the back of the mountain falls away and there are breathtaking views. The first looks out over Wadi (valley) Araba into Israel and the Palestinian territories, one of the many ‘troubled’ nations that surround Jordan, along with Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Syria and Iraq (set aside a good few hours if you wish to broach the subject of international politics with any Jordanian). The second takes in Jebel (mount) Haroun, believed to be the site of Moses’ brother Aaron’s tomb. It’s about now that I start to wish I’d paid more attention in history lessons at school.
The trek back down this twisting stone pathway to ‘Petra proper’ is, oddly, more challenging, probably due to fatigue and the absence of adrenaline. In the distance, we notice a village, previously pointed out to us by Mahmoud, into which the local Bedouin, who had been living in many of Petra’s tombs, until recently, were ‘relocated’ by the government. We can’t quite see the evidence from here, but are reliably informed that these remarkable nomadic people rejected the Government’s hospitality, choosing to sleep outside and move their goats into the comfortable interior.
We trudge wearily back to our starting point, and I feel a proud sense of achievement. No, maybe it’s more than that – it’s the misplaced air of a swashbuckling explorer returning from a successful quest.
As I wake Mahmoud, who ‘wasn’t sleeping, just thinking’, I realise that’s what this place does to you. Next time I’ll take a bullwhip, just in case.
Rob was a guest of the Jordan Tourism Board (visitjordan.com)
WADI WALKS
Jordan’s relatively small size means there’s always more adventure just around the corner. Here are two more hikes, all within a couple of hours from Petra...
Wadi Rum
The dramatic desert landscape of Wadi Rum is peppered with towering sandstone peaks and is famous in the West as the early 20th century base for Lawrence of Arabia. Its red sands are a true adventure playground, playing host to world-class rock climbing, abseiling, ballooning, sky diving, microlighting, sand yachting, horse trekking, 4WD trips, camel riding and hiking.
Hike: Rum Village to Lawrence’s Spring (6km, 4hrs)
The desert hiking experience is immediately different to Petra – there are no obvious paths leading to our destination, and we are totally alone. Just us, a few mountains and some sand. Lots of sand. We are again sporting sturdy, mid-height hiking boots to keep the sand out and have plenty of hydration. The instructions from our guide (he is ‘resting’ again) are essentially ‘walk straight into the desert and turn right after the big mountain’. Thanks, Mahmoud. We gaze at the domineering peaks bizarrely jutting straight out of the desert as we hit our first giant sand dune. We plough straight up through the hot sand and back down the other side. To our right is ‘the big mountain’ – the mighty Jebel Rum (1,754m). Eventually, we reach a water tank, our signal to turn right and head up (yes, up) the mountain. Trekking turns into scrambling as the gradient gets steeper, and 30 minutes later we reach Lawrence’s Spring, a welcome pool on the mountain-side, written about by TE (‘of Arabia’) Lawrence in Seven Pillars of Wisdom. The view is spectacular and we rest, watching the desert change colour with the angle of the sun.
Wadi Mujib
The 215 sq km Wadi Mujib Nature Reserve is the heart of an ecotourism project, and home to some 250 animal and 186 bird species. Surprisingly lush compared to much of the country, the lower Wadi Mujib gorge runs into the Dead Sea, at 400m below sea level, making it the lowest nature reserve in the world.
Hike: The Siq Trail (3km, 3hrs)
Being a protected nature reserve, Wadi Mujib is understandably not an activity haven, but there are half a dozen trails that play host to some stunning hiking and canyoning. Choice of kit is again dictated by the surroundings. The gorge has water constantly running through it (many of the trails are not open in winter, due to the risk of flash flooding) and we will be negotiating chutes and waterfalls, so watersports shoes with drainage, swim shorts, towel and waterproof bag for camera and valuables are all a must. As we leave the entrance to the gorge behind, the imposing canyon walls close in on us, blocking out much of the sunlight, creating an eerie, exciting atmosphere. Deep pools and waterfalls occasionally block our progress, but ropes and metal hand/footholds have been placed, via-ferrata style, to help us ‘canyon’ deeper into the gorge. We struggle against the flow of water as it systematically gains power with the increasing gradient. We climb onto ledges and cliff-jump into the deeper pools, shrieking like lunatics.
Images: Rob McKinlay
