Mutrah Souk and Wadi Dayqah

Following my trip into the mountains I decided my Kia required a proper service; it needed new tyres, radiator, aircon filters and brakes. I took it to the garage on the Wednesday in the hope I would go camping again with some colleagues on the Friday. Sadly this was not to be, and my temporary Renault Megane would not be suitable for the route they were taking, back through Wadi Ban Auf and up the steep gravel road to Hat.

I filled a bit of time on Friday evening by visiting the main souk in Mutrah, a sprawling maze of alleyways lined with small shops selling everything from gold jewellery, exotic perfumes, colourful garments and shawls, cardamon coffee, real and replica khanjars (daggers) and all manner of antiques, artifacts and tat for passing tourists. The souk has a main entrance on the corniche where most visitors make the mistake of buying their trinkets and paying double or treble the usual price. The trick is to keep walking, taking a few lefts and rights before you start shopping. I did not bring my camera as I would be charged more so there are no photos for now.

After a long wander through the alleyways I found a row of four Frankincense shops, their elderly Omani owners sat outside looking thoroughly bored. I entered the first one and, after some bargaining, purchased a kilo of Frankincense, charcoal, two small clay pots and a miniature blowtorch for all of 8 rials and 500 basers (about £12). At the rate I am burning it my supply will last a good few months. Either way it does a good job of covering up the smell of curry in the house, my main staple since moving here. And it beats buying those preposterously expensive candles and diffusers you find in John Lewis; for the price of one candle you can purchase 5 kilos of the stuff. So if any wise men happen upon the birth of a new prophet, it is no longer an option for impressing the mother!

On Saturday I woke up to a scorching hot day. Summer has arrived, albeit the intense humidity has not yet taken hold. I decided to drive south east towards the coastal town of Quriyat, about 30 kilometres further down the coast from As Sifah (but only accessible from the main coastal road). The carriageway is an impressive feat of engineering, winding its way across several valleys before meeting a barren plain, passing through the sprawling town of Al Hajar, and then following the edge of the impassable mountains which stretch for 50 kilometres east from Muscat along the coast.

After an hour I spotted some brown signs (tourist site) for "Wadi Dayqah Dam" and decided to take a look. The road cut across a few ridge lines before the huge concrete structure came into view, towering over the nearby town of Al Mazara. The dam was about 80 metres high and 400 metres across with water tumbling down the face. At the bottom of the dam local people were cooling off in the water (it was 43 degrees), whilst the more adventurous were scaling up the dam and sitting on the steps.

Wadi Dayqah Dam

One way to cool off.

Since the dam was completed it has became a major tourist attraction and boasts a large car park, visitor centre, restaurant and helipad. I saw a few Government Officials and some visiting Saudi and Emirati nationals (you can tell by number plates and / or dress) whilst I was there. In one of the driest countries on earth the sight of a blue freshwater lake surrounded by mountains draws large crowds, old and young generations alike. Despite advances in technology and increasing numbers of desalinisation plants, water is still of great importance to people across Oman and Arabia, especially many rural communities still dependent on the ancient natural Falaj systems for their irrigation. The coming of rain is still much anticipated even if it is just a passing shower. I think the complete opposite can be said of my home country.

The resulting lake stretches 6km back through the wadi.

An oasis of date palms fills the valley close to Al Mazara.

I left Wadi Dayqah and headed north to Quriyat. At 1530 in the afternoon the town was empty, apart from the hundreds of tired goats hogging every available spot in the shade. I eventually found a small dishevelled cafe where I ordered a chicken sandwich and orange juice. I regretted the decision after the owner spent half an hour dissecting dozens of oranges and carefully removing bread crusts. From there I decided to head back, although I ended up taking a wrong turning and following a windy (and very fun) mountain top road which eventually met up with the main carriageway. When I arrived back in Muscat I stopped by Ruwi district to catch the sunset. Between 1830 - 1900 the whole valley lights up as numerous calls to Maghrib prayers from the mosque loudspeakers echo over the rooftops.

Once prayers were over everybody hit the shops and I spent another half hour stuck in the chaotic traffic out of Ruwi. Unlike the chicken sandwich, I didn't regret it for seeing sunset.

Early Morning in Mutrah

Friday 11 April

I woke early and left the house by 5.30. The night sky was turning pale blue to the east and the street lights were still on. I headed east towards Old Muscat intent on seeing sunrise. The normally busy roads were empty; only on Sultan Qaboos Street and the other main roads did I see a few cars.

Muscat is not a conventional coastal city, if there is such a thing. The old city lies to the far east of the modern day urban sprawl which stretches for 30km west along the coast towards Seeb and Barka (the town I visited two weeks ago). Old Muscat nestles on the edge of a natural defensive harbour and is hemmed in on all sides by rugged, impassable mountains. In terms of size the old city is, at a guess, no larger than Westminster and its adjacent parks in central London. Since the reign of the present Sultan, who came to power in 1970, the city has increased a hundred fold spreading out along the coastal plains and valleys to the west. Old Muscat, and the neighbouring 'town' of Mutrah, remain largely cut off from the modern city by the sheer mountains, pierced only by a highway and coastal road which connects it with the rest of the city. 

My principle aim of the morning was to buy lunch at the fish market, but not before taking a quick walk in the nearby hills. I left the car at Riyam Park, between Old Muscat and Mutrah, eventually finding the walking path. It took me all of 25 minutes to clamber up and down the hills and was rewarded with a good view of Mutrah harbour being lit up by the sunrise, the Sultan's gigantic yacht dwarfing the nearby fishing boats. The way down was not straightforward as I had to scramble over a 'wadi dam' which prevents flash floodwater from engulfing the houses below; apparently it did not stop the nearby souk being flooded after a recent heavy deluge. After helping two nervous Indian IT technicians scramble down the side of the dam I headed for Mutrah Corniche.

Mutrah Harbour, overlooked by Mutrah Fort centre left. The Sultans Yacht is on the right.

Being early on a Friday morning almost everything was closed. A few locals were busy line fishing off the corniche, enticing small shoals with breadcrumbs, but it was otherwise quiet. However as I passed the entrance to souk I heard a shout of 'Es Salaam Alaykum, Good Morning', and a middle aged man in a white dishdasha and cap came bounding towards me. I had been spotted by one of the work guards, Talal, who I didn't recognise outside of his uniform. We exchanged pleasantries and news. He was out doing some part-time taxi work. I told him I was heading for the nearby fish market, but that I would buy him a coffee on the way back if he was still there. Muscat is a small place after all.

Mutrah Fort

The fish market lies at the far end of the corniche, and consists of a large dusty car park and warehouse roof. Unlike the rest of the town the market was a hive of activity at 7.30am. Fishermen were hurriedly bringing the nights catch from the harbour in wheelbarrows and many of the stalls were already fully stocked with almost every type of fish you can imagine: huge piles of mackeral; yellow fin tuna; small sharks; eels; sailfish; and a wide variety of different shellfish. The fishermen who did not have stalls under the roof simply set up shop in the car park, selling fish out of the boot of their trucks or tarpalin sheets laid out on the gravel. I wandered up and down trying to decide what to buy before settling down for what looked like a large cod (I know little about fish), and for all of 1.5 rials; about £2.10.

Hungry?

The old fish market is being replaced by a new purpose built trading hall under construction next door. Nevertheless it will remain a fish market. I just hope it retains the same loud and chaotic atmosphere as today.

I left just after 8.00 as the market was becoming busier. Fish in hand I headed back up the corniche where I bumped into Talal again. I offered to buy coffee but being typically Omani he was insistent I was his guest and he would make the purchase. We sat down on the pavement and chatted for a few minutes about how to make Omani coffee and the best places in Mutrah Souk to buy Frankincense. Apparently the best time to shop is early evening when the tourists disappear, in other words you are not overcharged. Tourists normally pay between 5 - 7 rials (about £8 - £11) for one kilo. However if you look in the right place and speak a bit of Arabic you can buy for less than 3 rials. Still I don't blame the traders for making gullible visitors pay a bit more. Just as we finished coffee Talal spotted a couple of American tourists in their late 50s ambling out of their nearby hotel. He rushed off and, I found out later, managed to bag a couple of city tours so he was pleased. I will do a Talal tour of Muscat in due course.

Mutrah Corniche

 
By 8.30 the sun was already beating down so I headed back, via a Portuguese watchtower, to my car. They are common on the Muscat coast; lonely outcrops of orderly rock on otherwise rugged headlands and shadows of bygone European empire. Now they offer another good viewpoint of the harbours below. I like to imagine what the view was like 100 years ago. Probably not much difference, although I don't think the Sultan in 1914 possessed quite such a large yacht.