The accommodation and food at our hotel in Bawiti, the largest town in the Bahariya Oasis, are quite wonderful. The people in this part of the world, including the staff at the hotel (when you can find anyone, that is. Most of the time the place is a ghost town) and our tour organizers are…challenging. It is extremely hard to get them to do what Christi and I want even though we are paying them. Quite how Amir and his outfit remain in business is beyond me. As usual we wait for hours at the hotel before Amir sends a car and driver to begin our tour of the Black Desert. His name is Mohammed…and he is not alone. There is a Japanese tourist sitting in the Toyota Landcruiser who wants to go with us. I’m not impressed and tell Mohammed to get Amir on the phone. We have a frank exchange of views. We paid for a private excursion and we’re not subsidizing other tourists. Amir is not happy to hear this, although keeping the tourists happy and sticking to the program appears to be unimportant to him. (I actually thought that sticking to the program was one of the 10 Islamic Commandments).
We leave our hotel in Bawiti hours later than anticipated in silence. Thirty minutes and 50 km down the road we enter the eerie landscape of the Black Desert. The mountains in this area have eroded to coat the desert with a layer of black powder and rocks. At the southern end of the Black Desert, previous volcanic eruptions dating back thousands if not millions of years ago leave the cone-shaped hills coated in a dark volcanic material called dolerite. Now this is why Christi and I are here. To see such unique and spectacular sights such as these. We scamper out of the Landcruiser and begin to explore. Before us is the oddly named English Mountain, which is the largest in the area. We scramble up its loose shale sides for quite breath-taking panoramic views. Truly magnificent.
A little down the road is another stop, this one is at a scummy-looking hot springs. Quite why anyone would want to jump into a hot springs when the ambient temperature is so brutally hot is beyond me, but our driver Mohammed does. And he looks very happy. Christi and I reluctantly paddle our feet. After 5 minutes I’m mentally honking a horn, but Mohammed is not to be rushed. We have one final stop before we get to the White Desert, the whole purpose of this excursion that we started almost 2 days ago if you recall, and that is the Crystal Mountain, which actually resembles more of an arch. Once upon a time, there were acres and acres of quartz crystals, but souvenir-seekers have removed many of the best examples. Still it is another unique sight. Now what about the White Desert?
We arrive in White Desert National Park after dark, set up camp and eat dinner under the stars. We’re surrounded by something magical, but we’re not quite suer what. ‘Tomorrow,’ Mohammed says before settling down for the night. I engage in another heated mental conversation with myself, although much of it is bleeped out by the censors.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of love and test tubes.
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