A Night at the Theatre

Around Petra

Look, it may seem that I totally lack any standards, but let me tell you that I do have! I can sleep on concrete, marble, hardwood, tiled and pretty much any floor, on rocks, on slabs, on sand. I can sleep sitting on a chair or two, under a bed or a table, in public transport of all kind and pretty much anywhere. I can sleep on uneven or sloped terrain and even with rocks sticking out. But I hate, I absolutely hate sleeping in the dust.
And there's a lot of dust in and around Petra.

When I came to Jordan I never thought for a moment about spending time in a theatre. But here I was on my first "night out" - sitting on the ruins of the Roman theatre in the Sabra valley where I set camp on a wide enough ledge, a former row of seats. I just couldn't find any other spot away from the dust.

A whole night in the Roman theatre, never did I even dream about this! Yet here I was and I was talking loudly to Pepe trying to explain to him how lucky we were, how unique and fortunate under this marvellous sky after a gorgeous day in these superb surroundings. We had worked hard for it and sweated big time, but the reward was beyond any expectation.

I had studied my book well and decided to do a trek around Petra. I didn't bother anymore to find a guide. The trek was 33km long, doable in either a very long day or 2 days otherwise - according to the book. Considering that I was going to have to carry plenty of water I figured that most likely it was going to take me 3 days or more, depending on how much I liked it and was going to wander around.
Starting from a village 12km away from Wadi Musa, the trail was going down a canyon said to be more impressive than Petra's Siq (according to the book), then continue up through the connecting Wadi Sabra to the ruins of a Roman village. From there a steep climb was following up Wadi Betahi in order to eventually reach the highest peak in the area, Jebel Haroun - Aaron's Peak - where Aaron is said to have died and where his tomb was erected right on top of the mountain. A little mosque is housing the tomb and its white dome is visible from the distance. From there the trek continued downhill and to Petra.

Loaded with my usual sleeping stuff, camera, tripod, book, diary, some processed cheese, 4 flat breads and 11 litres of water I started my adventure from the village of Taybeh where I got dropped off. The views from the high end boutique hotel which happened to be the starting point were gorgeous: the big mountains in the distance were impressive but the labyrinth of domes and wadis down below was simply fascinating. I had a hard time to keep going and not just stop for a picture every few meters.

At first there was a descent on a dirt road into the basin below where I discovered several bedouin tents indicating that bedouins were living right there. They had donkeys and goats and some even a car. A few caves in the rock walls were also inhabited or at least used. They had doors and even locks. A couple of boys spotted me, came up the dirt road and then accompanied me down into the basin. Their English was worse than my Arabic, but I still exhausted my Arabic vocabulary fast. Then all I could do in response to their questions was to either shrug my shoulders or repeat my itinerary like a lithany "Wadi Tibn, Wadi Sabra, Jebel Haroun, Petra, Wadi Musa".
We said good bye to each other near the beginning of the Tibn valley.

The trail descending into the canyon was dusty and the canyon did not look very impressive here. It was quite wide and there were lots of pink oleanders growing in the river bed.
However, the more I walked through the canyon the more impressive it actually became. The walls got closer and higher; there were big boulders to walk around or squeeze beneath and there was nobody else around. There were footprints and faint goat trails, but otherwise only lizards and birds. It was hot but the scenery was lovely.
I was steaming under my heavy pack and walking was not always easy because of the sand or rocks. There was nothing more than plain walking but my boots which I had not put on for more than 2 months felt much too tight. My feet were by now used only to walking barefoot or in sandals. However, given their by now very poor shape my comfortable sandals had become unreliable for this trek and now my feet were hurting more and more.
The canyon became truly spectacular soon and towards the end it was extremely narrow for a fairly long stretch. Narrower than Petra's Siq, it was indeed extremely impressive. I was happy that I managed to get through with my big pack as I had trouble before in a couple of spots sliding or scrambling down some rocks. Towards the end of the narrow section I discovered some Nabatean inscriptions high above me. They were not easy to spot but I somehow noticed them. Interestingly enough my book was not mentioning them and so I suddenly felt extremely excited. I could easily imagine myself being an explorer in a remote spot on Earth. Hmmm, this felt so good!

A place called "Waters of Tibn", "signposted" by an old tree and some more vegetation marks the spot where in spring there is water available in pools. By this time of the year there was no water, but a nice little patch of green with lots of shade. I first heard voices, then a flute. A woman and a boy were sitting on a big rock amid their goats. I said hello and they responded and looked at me in disbelief. I presume they were expecting some other people to follow or something. Where was I coming from, like a camel on two legs ? I sat down nearby for a few minutes and listened to the flute. Its clear sound was fitting perfectly in these surroundings.

From here there was a little uphill to enter Wadi Sabra, because of a boxed canyon. Therefore, the trail went up a fairly steep ravine and then continued on ledges high above the canyon, then around and down on the other side. Once on the other side I found myself in a wide river bed. The terrain features were less dramatic. If Wadi Tibn could have caused claustrophoby to some, this wadi clearly gave you space to breathe and look around. My feet were hurting badly and little did it matter that I was walking on flat terrain.

About 13km and 7 hours from the start I reached the ruins of the Roman village. There was not much more than a few stones and walls to see but for me it was a most expected landmark. I dropped my pack and started looking around for a spot to overnight. Except for the river bed where there the vegetation was now much too dense there was hardly any flat spot. And wherever there was a small flat surface it was just all covered in dust. I was expecting to see goats around based on the million goat footprints, but I did not.

The Roman Theatre was a little further and I went to inspect it. It was amazing how it was built there, in the middle of nowhere and into the mountain. Above it was a big dam partially still in place and more signs of herding goats. It was close to sunset and I needed to find a spot to sleep before dark. My feet were hurting terribly and so, after looking around unsuccessfully for a slab or cave, I decided to give the theatre a try. There was a wider ledge that could have been big enough for me to sleep on. And so it was. Lovely!
The moon had been full just the night before and now it was still very big and bright. As I lay there in my sleeping bag at night I could clearly see the mountains and distinguish all the terrain features around. It was fantastic. The only thing bothering were my feet which had fairly big blisters :-)


The next morning I had a surprise. There was heavy dew and my sleeping bag was quite damp. Therefore, I had to place the sleeping bag in the sun to dry out and wait. In the meantime I just took my time with breakfast, nursing my blisters and taking pictures of Pepe and I in the theatre.
When I finally got ready to go I heard voices and goats and saw a herd of goats coming down the wadi. A woman and two men with donkeys were walking with the goats. I said "Salaam" and also raised my hand to salute. The older man walked toward me and asked me where I was going. Except for the dark bushy moustache his face reminded me of an African mask. It was almost black from smoke, dust and age. I told him my story: "Wadi Tibn, Wadi Sabra, Wadi Betahi, Jebel Haroun, Petra". And used my hands also to provide additional details. He gave me a toothless smile and nodded. Then he started talking to me. I guess he was giving me all sorts of details. From signs I could figure out directions and such but, really, all I could pick up from the long story was his name: Farahj. I smiled back at him, repeated my story, said thank you and good bye and I continued my hike.
A little further ahead I left the wide flat wadi to go up Wadi Betahi. I was still fairly close to the bottom when I turned around and noticed a man on a donkey stopped in the wadi below. He had seen me and, I guess, was wondering about my presence. I dropped my pack and descended. He came closer and we had a similar conversation as I had with Farahj. I forgot his name, though. And he also offered help, to carry my stuff up with his donkey. I thanked him but declined. I also got his confirmation that this was Wadi Betahi and then I went back up. Going up the wadi took about one and a half hours. It was quite steep but I was happy for the goat trails winding around the rocks and boulders. It was wild and steep terrain with big cliffs and narrow gullies.

It was only when I reached the saddle on top of the wadi that I got to see my target - Jebel Haroun. At over 1800m it is the highest peak in the area. But a long wide stretch still separated me from the foot of the mountain. It took me little more than one hour to cross the barren slopes and wadis separating me from Jebel Haroun. There was no tree, no shade along the way. Fortunately the views of the mountains ahead were fantastic and helped me through several ups and downs across unexpected little wadis. And I also had the unexpected privilege to find a flower along the way. It was a tiny pink flower growing out of the rocky terrain. Of course I dropped down my pack, took pictures and looked for some more. I could not find another like it.

Once I got onto the trail coming from Petra I started encountering people. They were actually groups led by a local guide. They usually had a donkey or two to carry water and food and stuff for them. At first they all looked at me as if I were an alien. In a way I was, since nobody else had a backpack like mine :-)

It was early afternoon when I finally reached the plateau beneath the peak. The ruins of a Byzantine church were dominating the plateau. Beneath the peak, in the shade offered by the rocks there were a couple of groups having a rest and lunch and drinking tea. A local guide welcomed me an asked me if I would like some tea. Sure, I wanted. Thank you! My appearance had stirred his curiosity and so we talked for a while. He was impressed by my trek and told me that he used to lead part of it for German and French groups. He also said that some locals had never been in those areas. I really felt proud of myself. He also asked me whether I had seen the inscriptions in Wadi Tibn and I was so happy to get his confirmation regarding the inscriptions.
A bedouin woman on a donkey also asked me where I came from and what my name was. Her name was Soraya and when I told her about my itinerary she asked "did you meet Farahj?" Farahj seemed to be a well-known person in the area as the guardian later also asked me about him. I felt proud to have met and talked to him :-)
After the nice chat and the tea we said good-bye and I walked up the stairs to the top. Breathless I arrived there to take in the beautiful views. I have to admit, the views from Mt Sinai are by far better, but these were very good, too. Pretty much in all directions but W-NW were mountains. The area where I had come from looked very distant and dramatic. To the NorthEast was the Petra basin with its domes and white and pink coloured rock. The desert of Wadi Araba to the NW-N was not dead flat, but clearly not mountainous. Rather like a randomly dropped sheet of ochre velvet, with numerous folds.
I was happy to be here and thinking of spending the night right here on top of the mountain. I wanted to witness both sunset and sunrise with these superb views.
After visiting the little mosque housing the marble tomb of Aaron I accepted the guardian's invitation for a tea in his little "home" down on the plateau. And this is how I met Mohammed. He did not let me sleep on top of the mosque but he offered me his home and the flat rock next to it, if I rather wanted to sleep outside. I accepted the offer.
Mohammed, 66, had served in the army for more than 25 years. He was now retired and worked as a guardian up here. He had 14 children from 2 wives: the first 60, the second 28 years old and pregnant. He was very nice and his English good enough to tell me lots of stories. And he knew a lot and had been through a lot. He invited me for tea in his little cave which he had fixed 14 years ago. Back then the cave was very small and he worked hard to make it a little bigger. Inside everything was very nicely arranged, everything had its esignated spot and it was clean and bright (he had painted the walls white). Every three weeks he spent a week up here in solitude.
Mohammed invited me also for dinner and he didn't accept a "no". I got to lie down on his mattress and he brewed tea on the little stove he had. Sipping tea in a cave in the warm light given by an old gas lamp - I had not expected to do this on top of the mountain. Mohammed shared with me everything he had and I felt honoured and happy and enjoyed his company and storytelling.

At night Mohammed showed me from the top of the rock the many lights to the West and NorthWest. That's where the barren desert of Wadi Araba is and he explained to me that all those lights are army camps. Wow!

Needless to insist, I spent a lovely time on top of the mosque. I descended to te plateau when dusk was already setting in and walked up early in the morning before sunrise. I had the place and views all to myself. It felt like being on top of the world.
After another pot of tea in the morning and a few more stories I packed my stuff and said good-bye to Mohammed. I was happy to be able to leave him some water ( I still had a lot left) and cheese and my bread. He was going to stay there for another 6 days, I was going to be back in Wadi Musa soon. Then I started my descent.

How do you know by looking at a donkey where the group of tourists comes from? Nothing simpler than that. If there are about 5 or 6 Deuter backpacks dangling off the poor animal it's obvious: they're Germans.
I always tried to make out things by observing details. And to have fun doing it. I noticed the Deuter packs maybe because I'm a Deuter backpack fan. Anyway on the way down I met a group of Germans. And Soraya was with them and greeted me like an old time friend. That was fun. Further down her kids were at under a tree at an improvised tea stop offering cold drinks and tea to the tourists.
The descent and trail to Petra was enjoyable taking you past mountains and caves as well as Nabatean tombs. It offered great views and was also a simple walk.

It was about 2 pm when I reached Petra and started facing the crowds. Rather than rushing to Wadi Musa and a hotel I dropped my pack and went up Al-Habis, the hilltop with the ruins of a fortress. It not offered great views over the basin, but was also not very popular. The colonnaded street and Great Temple were right there at its feet and farther ahead were the Royal Tombs carved into the mountainside. It was very hot, my feet were hurting, there was nobody around. I decided to make myself comfortable and so I sat down in the dust leaning on a big stone and took off my boots and socks. I sat there contemplating the views for about 2 hours until the light became softer and the crowds had diminished. It was lovely.

I walked out of Petra slowly, stopping many times and taking more pictures. I was saying good-bye to this fabulous place in my own way.
A couple of times bedouins on donkeys shouted after me "Canada!Hello Canada! Back from Jebel Haroun?" I guess recognizing me was trivial if they had seen me on the mountain the day before :-)

The next day I left Wadi Musa.