December 19, 2016

DAY 1

12 at noon the fairytale was over. No more glorious breakfast buffets, all you can eat dinner and a soft bed. With the bike packed in the worst way I roll out on the road, always reaching back to adjust the load on the rack. I rode this stretch of highway before but this time it was different. It should take two days to reach Oman and from there it's me and Rubber Duckie in the Indian Ocean.

The surprisingly un-aerodynamic trucks made sure to pull me forward with each passing. The closest two lanes are only for them and the last four for cars, in the heat you can see the highway for miles.

Few hours later when the dunes start rolling and the sand drifts after each vehicle it's a different story. But I can't stop looking to the side, wondering how nice it would be to be out there... with a camel

I ride through a town as it's getting dark and continue, all of a sudden I look to the right and see the mountains. As I turn onto a dirt track the evening prayer starts blasting through loudspeakers from the Mosques. A truly surreal moment. They play again as I make camp and in the morning ten minutes before my alarm.

DAY 2

Yesterday through some odd looks and shaking heads I discovered that the tap water here is not potable. I filled my bottles at a car workshop from some filtering machine, the water tasted very heavy in chlorine or something. A man from Pakistan working at an AC repair shop unsuccessfully offered some tape for my shorts.
"This man is a tailor, he can sell you pants," I shook my head, thinking of riding with pants and paddling with pants.
"Follow me," we went into the back to his house and I stitched them up. He then asked if I drink tea and I accepted but refused the offer for breakfast. He has lived and worked here for 9 years, his family - wife and 3 sons are back in Pakistan. He said he owns his shop and I think he is better off than most migrant workers but can you imagine, raising a family from another country?

I found it quite funny that I took one photo but then he opened the freezer door and insisted on another. If you are in Oman and need your fridge or AC repaired (or pants), this is the guy! Phone # on the wall!

I was all set for Oman. I paid $15 for the privilege of leaving the Emirates and $20 for a 10 day Oman visa. What did not make it, however was the U.A.E. license plate I picked up on the road. I was surrounded by 4 border guards and after 10 minutes of waiting, I am told that if you find a license plate here you should take it to the police.
"No problem," they say but the license plate stays with them.

the sheikh of dubai and the sheikh of RAK

At the sight of the ocean I really got to think about my idea to packraft around the peninsula. The only journal I found talks about a group of 3 in sea kayaks who literally got stuck at a point and a motorboat helped them to safety. They did however talk about not being there at the right time. When is the right time?

going over the hill to Khasab, in the water many cargo ships going to India, Pakistan, Bangladesh...

By the time I reached Khasab I knew one thing for sure - I am not riding this bike anymore. The saddle, designed to inflict maximum discomfort was just too much to handle. I inflated the boat under the curious looks of fishermen, one even took it for a spin. I gave him the bike and the lock.
"Take it, it's for you," he goes up and locks it to a lightpost and gives me the key.
"No, no.... bike - for you."
He refuses and I take the key. Oh well.

it was either shoping at the Lulu Hypermarket or the tiny store nearby, my new friends spoke a little english.

another one of those moments where I am wondering what am I doing...

Out of Khasab and into the ocean! The first bit was quite busy and to be honest very dangerous. Many people driving those speedboads do so without glasses, thus squinting into the wind, by the time they are close enough to see you the front of their boat blocks their sight. Others are so happy to see you and drive by very close, the waves from their motor breaking on my bow.

I was pushing it with starting late but I kept going past the first few beaches which looks like had some tourists in tents. There were some nasty currents pushing me forward so I bee lined to the other side.

Just as all colors started blending in together I made for what seemed to be a beach. The camp was close to the shore but away from the crashing waves. There is something scary about the ocean at night. I go to wash my dishes but seem to run back out with every wave.

the ocean is a scary, scary place at night

DAY 3

In the morning I followed a trail to a cliff and boom! Dolphins! I hurry up and pack everything to eat my breakfast at their bay. They are shy at first but after eah spoonfull of nutella and each pita they come closer and closer. I envy them for their grace and fluid natural movements and regret that the Canon point and shoot camera is now toast. Maybe the next week will give me an opportunity to decide if I really need to be carrying two cameras. The gopro is running on 2nd year now but the point and shoot cameras have done very poorly, this one only clocking in 4 months.

I paddle on against the tide but it is barely noticable, few times I hit some odd currents and later pass by a huge military base. A helicopter flies overhead now and then and a giant grey-blue ship sits guarding the dock.

these massive walls really make you feel small

I avoid the first exposed point by portaging across a skinny sandy section, the birds scattering at my approach and a desert fox looking curiously at me from the rocks above. In a post apocalyptic setting I take a break and decide to continue to a small town.

Oman coast guard:
"How many of you are there?"
"One"
"Just one?"
I tell them where I'm going and where I come from and we go on our ways.

Oman coast guard take 2:
"Mister, we need to see your papers."
I fumble to the bottom of my dry bag and hand them my passport. He curiously examines each page.
"And the papers for the boat?"
"No papers, it's inflatable."
"Can I take a photo of you too?" I ask after one of them takes a picture of me.
"No, no." How unfair! The mounted machine gun on the front looks straight out of an action movie, it doesnt appear to have any sort of a stabilization mechanism - making it completely useless in a highspeed chase.

Oman coast guard take 3:
Here we go again, 500m down the Khor (thats how they call the mountain bays here). This time they take photos of few of the pages of my passport.
"My brother is waiting for you at the beach"

the small town of Kumzar, on top right you can see a gnarly road over the mountain, it is not for a mine. Apparently they have no space in the main town so some people have moved up there to live.

A welcome comittee quickly gathers, few men speak to me in english while the kids poke my boat and the goats chew on cardboard. I decide to ask the man who speaks english about my route:
"How far is Wamm?"
"Too far."
"Yes, but how far, kilometers?"
He says something to another man in Arabic.
"Too far. 3 hours by motor boat"
The thing is I didnt want to go there but as I have been making good distance, it would be nice to extend the trip a couple of days.

Who would have thought I'd be dipping pita in nutella in the same room where the Sheikh of Khasab slept. My new friends tell me Kumzar has 2000 people but I can hardly believe it, there is no way that many can fit in the tiny bay. A Canadian, Eric lived here for 3 months to learn their local language, Kumzari. Outside is nice too but I am tankful Rubber Duckie is indoors, the kids and the goats would have made quick work of her!

As you can imagine, the moment camera was mentioned, I was taken around the place.

"here take a picture of him"

"and him... he is the shop owner"

DAY 4

In the morning right before I left the police drove up and asked me to go with them. It's a short window for the favorable tide around the next point but by the looks of it they really want me at the station. There, I get on the phone with the commanding officer who seems somewhat concerned about me. I lie through my teeth and tell him I know what I am doing. He tells me it's okay to do it but they will look after me and make sure I am okay.

By the looks of it I missed my chance to go out with the tide, I head over to a spot where I can portage around, google maps shows a 30-50m stretch of beach which will let me completely bypass the gnarly opening at the top of the peninsula. Ha. Joke's on me, there is a cliff here.

I slowly make my way back to find the opening quite paddle-able. There is definitely a current going in and some baby whirlpools but nothing major.

The sea is always greener on the other side, feeding on the algae are these tiny jelly fish, shaped like fish. Some have red hearts and others yellow. The red hearts can form chains, up to 20+ strong when they are young, separating as they grow. Once older with their fish like bodies they flow with the current and open and close their mouths - "Nom...nom...nom," their lips covered in green algae. I paddle on carefully often interrupting my stroke if one is right in the path.

"Hello. How are you?"
Oman coast guard #5. I ask them if there is a beach at the next bay and they say there is. I paddle toward the sunset.

What I thought was empty beach had few houses, a man who worked in Abhu Dabi as aircraft mechanic spoke some english. Now he works at the hospital for 1 day and fishes for 4. They loaded up their second boat, full of fish going to sell it at Khasab. He said some days are good, others not good. We eat amazing dinner of fish and rice with our hands. At night the ocean glows with tiny luminescent creatures, they crawl on the rope and sway with the waves.

this is one of the four boats filled with fish that they sent to Khasab market. I watched them clean and fold up the nets, wash their feet and pray.

DAY 5

The morning came with a 5 star view of the ocean and the mountains. How great to be able to experience this and the local culture and how sad that perhaps one or two people do it by a kayak every 2 years.

my friend took me for a walk up the hill, pointing to the large opening in the rocks:
"this is where they used to collect water before during the rain, it hasn't rained in three years here."
Now they have a blue water tanker delivering water to every village. We crest the top to look at the sunrise and he points to the nearly vertical wall across the bay.

"there is a trail to Kumzar there," I wonder for a moment if I should try and hike it.

Some nasty currents keep pulling me sideways but once I get in some rough water they are gone, what a relief! It was perhaps the roughest I have ever had. The waves are not huge but Rubber Duckie is shaken violently from side to side, up and down. Every now and then a surprise wave splashes you in the face, it's quite cold. While I have never been on a sea kayak I can imagine having a raft here is better, the long narrow kayak would have tough time keeping straight and upright in those waves. I hope the coast guard doesnt see me now - I'd have a hard time convincing them I am okay and that I actually like this.

nastiness, had the wind be a little stronger I would have had difficult time staying off these rocks...

I make it to an old village site, the houses built with stones into the rocks. The perfect hideout for the night, how lucky to find such an amazing spot high above the sea and away from the garbage on the beach. This should be a historic site and not a garbage dump. I'd like to learn more about the people that lived here. Fishing was bviously their livelyhood but how did they find water?

DAY 6

since I had five+ minutes to kill in the morning

A quiet morning across the calm bay ends with the notoriously loud police boat rolling in.
Oman coast guard #6.
These guys are on a bigger boat and from Khasab. After the general questions and passport check they ask for papers, permission papers. I should have gotten something in writing from Kumzar but after some chatting they let me go. They also do not mind having a photo but it's a "no" for the video, what a bummer.

So far I have made good time and instead of going overland at my planned spot, I cut straight across the Khor and go south. While I never saved the map I remember there was another town connected to a road there - Dibba.
While drinking water, I look at the bottle, it reads "Dibba". Dibba, Fujurah, U.A.E. wait.
Not in Oman?
I wonder about the complications of not crossing at official port and start heading back. A fisherman tells me there is Dibba, Oman and Dibba, Emirates and nods to my sign language for a passport and a stamp. Ok, we are good to go.

that cool navy ship was making way to the giant bay. Later I learned that there was a boat accident there and they were recovering the remains.

cutting straight across the khors feels like I am missing out on what is in there but it is also kind of exciting and scary - looking to shore and wondering how long it would take me to swim there if the worst happens.

Right at sunset I pull up to a small village, 3 houses. An old man and two women come out and tell me that I can't camp here and that the next beach is near.
"Near, yeah right," I think as the sun sets around the mountains and the night sets in. Soon all color and texture fades and I can barely make out the khors. Finding a beach would require getting quite close, my only hope is to find a village with lights before 8pm (which is when they norally turn off the generators if they even have any).

The ocean on the other hand was magical. The boat breaking the waves and the paddle stirring the water leaves a trail of luminescent green creatures. Fish dashing away from me also leave a trail and the stars are glowing bright. Few boats pass close, close enough that I can wave them down if I wanted to but I want to keep going. After two hours in the dark I spot a light on the shore. While in 99% of the cases its not good to go toward the light, this was different.
"Salam aleikom"
"Aleikom salam,"
I land on the rocks and we struggle to pull the boat up. A pakistani family lives and fishes here. They immidiately invite me to eat, we manage to communicate a little with sign language. They quickly show me off to bed under the stars and the man goes off to fish in the night.

DAY 7

Fresh fire baked bread for breakfast, I pack up and before I can say goodbye the man and his kid are already in the motorboat go and collect fishing nets and the woman has the goats out and up the hill.

the small little two house beach that has a name but i dont know it

They later pass me offering me a ride to Dibba but I say I am ok. At the beach I found a beer while I wanted to save it for reaching town, I dont know if drinking is legal in Oman (*its not) but all these calories would help.

Few hours and few khors later I am looking at a turtle. Wildife, sealife has been absolutely amazing here. The waves get bigger but they are not nasty like last time, just big wind waves, sometimes breaking but it's tailwind. Several small boats stop to ask if I am okay. A large 10km gap which would have been scary before is just regular business now and before I know it I am looking at resorts and a big town.

so yeah... how long would it take to swim to shore??

I pack up and embark on a legendary 6km portage through town disguised as a shipwreck survivor. My shorts ripped, my hat and shirt with salt stains and paddle over the shoulder. The revised plan is to try and catch a boat ride back to Khasab where I started 6 days ago and bring the bike here then bike back to Dubai to catch my flight. I was hoping I may be able to leave my boat at the police station but the boss said no, at the gate I was greeted with:
"Where is your car?"
They did however drive me back to the marina where I can sleep and I left rubber duckie in the hands of Raju, a shop owner from Bangladesh.

didnt expect a portage component but ah! why not. I change shoulders every 150m or so

some fine english grammer on the very streets of Oman

While there are no stray dogs here, there are stray cats. These wild creatures fend for themselves and scrounge from garbage dumps and fisheries. Well fed and brave, they will pull bread from your hands if you are not looking. At night they purr and meow at eachother fending off enemies and befriending allies. There was also a high pitch coyote-like howl as well but what would that animal be?

yeah this guy would have gotten some food if he didn't meow all the time and then lick his balls right next to me

DAY 8

I was planning on trying to hitch a boat to Khasab but the ferry was running today and at $25 canadian it was quite the deal, I will get to watch the last 6 days in mere two hours from the safety and comfort of an air conditioned cabin and the sounds of the ramming engine and a bollywood movie playing on the big screen. It's the story of Rohan who doesn't want to be an industrialist like his dad but a musician, after a disagreement with his dad he leaves his house and goes to school with a goal to steal "student of the year" from his worst enemy. I wonder if Indian people watch some american movies like Batman and wonder.
"Well... why isn't anybody singing and dancing???"

The ricketry wooden fishing ships, before looking like rockets are now sluggish and small, the road I plan to take switchbacks across the tallest mountain, day 6, 5, 4, 3... Kumzar... 1... port, oh look a 12 story cruise ship.

I walk to the marina where I left my bike and look around.

It's not there.

(to be continued!)