February 23, 2023. It´s late at night, and my friends Mohammed, Sameh and I went for a last shop together in Alula. Sameh, funny as always, was the man in charge of the ice for our camping fridge, and Mohammed was unmistakably the leader during our 4-day trip in Saudi Arabia’s wonder, Alula.
Now, as we ordered our midnight coffee, I admired the vibrant life around me. Busy streets echoing the word unattached joy. The vibrant nightlife is filled with traditionally dressed men sitting barefoot at a bar table as if they were at home, enjoying the best football game of their days.
Why do we need this late-night coffee? Mohammed, Sameh, my mother, and I awaited a long drive through the perfectly imperfect desert roads of Saudi Arabia, perpetual highlands and mountain roads through steep passages. All through Saudi Arabia’s precious nightlife. This journey leads us to Wadi Al-Disah, the valley of palm trees found in the northwestern Tabuk Province of Saudi Arabia.
Mohamed’s car expresses the effort it takes to make its way through these untamable conditions. As loud as Mohammad’s car exhausts itself, ironically, it is the sound to which I eventually fall asleep.
February 24, it’s around 4 am in the morning. After a long night especially for Mohammed and Sameh, we look for a place to set up camp. Remember how I described Saudi Arabia’s nightlife to be precious? Well, here we are, wanting to set up camp as all four of us, faced by the sound of danger, stare into a dark nothingness. A big pack of dogs is running straight at us. Blinded by the darkness, I feel like bait at the end of a fishing line.
Adrenaline-filled blood veins are the only thing we currently exist of as we hurry to pack up all our stuff back into the car.
We made it back to our safe harbour, the car. Silence, for a whole 2 minutes, we sit in a dark car waiting for the dogs to show their faces, yet nothing.
Parked somewhere aside a road, we spent the remaining hours of dawn.
There it was, the long-awaited daylight, the commencement of a new day, a new day that guaranteed precious experiences and insights. Wadi Al-Disah, here we come.
Welcome to Wadi Al-Disah, says the sign. Here it is, where we drive onto nature’s paths as the sun rises higher and higher. A riverbed soaked in water that penetrates from down below up to the earth’s surface and Saudi Arabia’s plants that make every next meter we drive a surprise as they don’t allow for a wider horizon than ‘the next step’.
That is until we come to an open area. Our exhaustion is made insignificant through the nature that we find ourselves surrounded by. A big valley of palm trees, and soaring sandstone cliffs consisting of a blend of reds and browns, layered beautifully, demonstrating the passage of time.
River passages with fresh spring water lead way deeper and deeper into the Wadi Al-Disah, the valley of palm trees. No wonder this magical place is mainly located in the Prince Mohammed bin Salman Natural Reserve.
The sun has fully risen, shining through the endless palm trees, giving life to the mountain as the red colours become increasingly vivid and birds sway through the sky, welcoming the sun to a new day 400 meters above sea level.
The four of us walk and walk and walk in search of a place to lay out the carpet, put on the cooker and make ourselves breakfast. We encounter a man who tells us a vulnerable story. Last year he nearly faced death as he got lost in the mountains, without a cell phone and someone to call for help. ‘Since then, I have carried this phone with me everywhere I go, and I thank Allah every day for gifting me this precious life just another day, Alhamdulillah.
You see how something someone says or does, whether that is an act of kindness or a sign of trust and compassion, can change the course of your day and mark moments you will often gift your attention many more times in your life again?
Here we sat, facing the opening Valley, cooking our breakfast. We have all the time in the world. We sit, talk, inspire and strive.
I look to the side to see a Bedouin watching the four of us in silence. The voices of Mohammed, Sameh, and my mother fade into the background as I look at the Bedouin looking back at me. He raises his left hand. It somehow imposes on me, and so I to lift my hand. Now, as if he saw the lifting of my hand as an acceptation, he comes to us. ‘Salam Alaikum’, he expresses. Though my Arabic language capabilities are not extensive, if there is one thing I learned, it is ‘Alaikum Salam’; may peace be upon you too.
Bound by the language barrier, Mohammed, Sameh, and the bedouin talked calmly and welcomed him to sit, talk, drink tea with us and enjoy some dates. Turns out he lost his sheep herd and is currently in search of them, yet he takes the time to embrace the present and enjoy a moment with us. This encounter with Mohammed, as it turns out, is the bedouin’s name and is worth a journal itself.
We decide to take a walk even further into the Valley to explore the world that surrounds us. Jeeps drive through the waterways, and local people wave with bright smiles on their faces, inspired by the simplistic joy nature finds in the fact that it lives today and now. Not to forget the intrigue they feel from the view of visitors.
The valley is becoming narrower, our ways slowly become discontinued by deep water, and the sun fades behind the soaring sandstone cliffs. We face big columns of rock standing ever so strong, sculpted by each day passing into an authentic shape. A place filled with serenity, strong character, untouched beauty, untamed life, tales of history found carved into the sandstones of the valley and the purity of the local’s kindness, the love they have for life.
