Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Redsea Mountains in winter

It was very cold. It was stormy. It was an unusual opportunity, to go to the Redsea Mountains. I was allowed to join a group.

Robbyguided us to a small hidden oasis and I betook myself. I walked over debris and rocks, upwards, across and headed away… away from the people, out into seclusion and silence. It was not completely silent, however; the wind sang, danced over the rocks and whirled up the sand. Not a sandstorm yet, but rather stormy it was.

Upon my return to the oasis, I was brought back to the here and now: the others were hungry! So, off we went to find a somehow protected place for a barbecue. A barbecue in that stormy wind? Robby made the impossible possible. Yet the sunset afterwards did not happen; mountains, sky and desert blurred into an indefinite grey. Since we had departed way too late (the others wanted it that way), we ran out of time; gazing at the starlit sky far away from the light pollution was out of question. We had to get out of the desert.

I will never forget the next two and half hours: the two light beams of Robby’s jeep shone into the dark night, over car tracks whose sand grains had already been swirled up by the storm. We crossed tracks, guessed skylines of mountains, discovered a lost star. I was wondering about my fellows’ thoughts. Doubts? Fear? No idea… I trusted Robby. Indeed: at the same moment as I recognised a wall of rock in the twilight, Robby asked me, whether I knew where we were. This was a fantastic performance; this man really knows “his” desert.

I hope I will soon have another chance…

Here are some impressions:

Bedouin's cemetry

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