The Red Sea

Destination: The Red Sea. Back to Abha, and from there, downhill all the way to the sea. The road is in good condition. Three lanes. One going down and two coming up. It is the middle lane that concerns me. No one gives a damn. They all consider it to be the fast lane, irrespective of whether you’re going up or down! They overtake around blind corners. They drive like crazy. They believe that everything is the will of Allah. If they die (and whomever else gets taken out with them), it is the will of Allah. If they stay alive, it means they got away with it and they’ll do it again. Sheer madness. I had my seatbelt on in the back and just about prayed all the way down. On our return, my prayer became even more fervent because we were now in the outside lane (left-hand drive, right side of the road) All the seatbelts in the world won’t help you when you get bumped over the edge! Hectic, hectic, hectic.

As you should know by now, we started at close to 3000m and the long and winding road with all its hairpin bends went on for about 50 kms. It was a relief to reach the lowlands. The mountains are barren rock and when it rains, the water rushes down it forming valleys and taking down everything in its way. All the different gulleys flow together and the dry river bed suddenly becomes a fast-flowing river. The valleys are also know as wadis and each wadi has its own clan.

 I had a notebook with me and tried to keep track of all the wadis. I’m sure not even Google Earth is going to help us with this: Wadi Karadah, Wadi Tha Masrab, Wadi Bakhman, Watadah, Rahab, Al Butyra, Al Hayad, Zalam, Dank, Al Esha Al Sufti, Lanek, Al Madr Al Ala … am I doing okay so far?  And this is just along one stretch of one road. There are many more.

We finally reached the coast without me noticing it. Drove for about 100kms with me looking at a barren landscape interspersed with palm trees (not the tropical kind). Eventually I realised that the sea was on my left. It didn’t smell like the sea. Hell, it hardly looked like the sea. No waves either. No sandy beaches. No seagulls. No life?

We past through many little villages, but not the quaint kind. Check stops and speed-bumps throughout. Not a pleasant Sunday afternoon drive then. I kept thinking we were going to reach some place special until I finally realised: This is as good as it’s going to get. We stopped off somewhere. God knows where. At least it was the Red Sea. At last! I dipped my feet in. The waters did not part. Surprise!!! No bathing suits. No nothing. Stood there like an idiot in my black abayah.

Had a picnic of sorts. Ignored all the pollution. Litter scattered all over the place. It was a relief to leave. 

 I know a sea that is better. A place I call home. Where waves come crashing down. Where the wind smells of salt and the seagulls call out your name. But I was there. Saw the Red Sea and left.

 We stopped at a market along the road. There were more men from the Tuhama tribe. They looked less friendly and wore their daggers more visibly. I did not dare take photo’s, at least not of them. 

I did try my luck at another roadside stall. They were not tribesman but peasant-looking. I joked around but quickly hopped back in the car before they could offer any camels in exchange for me. You never know what can happen next and the men in our group were either too small or too old to pose any threat or offer their protection. Next time I would like to take some Front Row player along with me. Preferably one that looks aggressive. (Don’t they all!)

            I was glad to see Abha again. Sweet home. Almost. And the day was done.