October 28 - Fancy a bit more desert?
When you're in the desert for too long...
You wonder who it's for...
All the slightly rigged rules...
Of the game they want you to play...
Blindfolded...
Well, to be honest, I don’t really get what the singer was trying to say there. Oh well, anyway, we haven’t been in the desert for too long! I’d even say we’re craving more! We’re thirsty—thirsty for adventure! We’re in the starting blocks! We can’t sit still, a bit like Gilbert Montagné swaying on his keyboard! Anyway, we’re eager to get going, even if the girls don’t quite know what I’ve got in store for them. So, at eight o’clock, everyone on deck! Don’t try to picture the scene—it’s just an expression, there’s no bridge in the desert. The JordanTracks 4x4 drops us back at the village of Rum, and that’s the end of our collaboration. Today, it’s just the four of us, face-to-face with the desert! But first, everyone report in! Gear inspection! Sleeping bags, warm clothes, flashlight, map, food we bought at the local Carrefour Market—all the gear of a model little adventurer! All we’re missing now is water, which might come in handy in the desert. Where we’re going, since decent watering holes can be counted on one hand (and that’s if you’ve got all your fingers), we’re going with four liters per person. And if you can do math, well, four liters of water means four extra kilos to lug around. Yeah, no camel to help us out! In Wadi Rum, the camel—that’s me! In the end, we’re loaded up like Nepalese mules! From behind, we look like four walking backpacks!
Alright, we head full east toward our first goal of the day: Rakhabat Canyon. Several internet users straight-up told me not to tackle it without a guide, or we’d risk getting lost. We’re crazy—no fear! When we get to the foot of the mountain we have to cross, guess who we run into? Awad! And when we tell him we’re going to take on Rakhabat all by ourselves, he just says two words that speak volumes: “Good luck.” That’s all it takes to fire me up! Plus, we’re in Arab land, so *inshallah*!
So we dive right into the beast’s mouth, taking a zigzagging path with slopes no cyclist should attempt. To reassure the ladies, I make a break for it and take the lead like a hare in a race. All they have to do is draft behind me! No, no, don’t worry—nothing X-rated in what I just said! It’s cycling lingo! More Gérard Holtz than Rocco Siffredi, if you catch my drift! Anyway, moving on. The climb is tough until the second wind kicks in—thanks for that. Despite a few tricky sections, we make progress and reach a sort of plateau. So far, so good. We enter a wide canyon, and now it’s more of a scavenger hunt than anything else! Map in one hand, my keen sense of direction in the other, we go right. Oh no, that’s a dead end! Left, then? Nope, apparently, the bag has more than one bottom! Okay, I’m not sure where to go now! Luckily, there’s always something to feast your eyes on around here. Don’t push it! We’re not going to get lost in an ugly place, right? Ouch. *Lost.* There, I said it. We’re as lost as four lice on Desireless’s head...
No big deal—if we want to find our way before the sun turns our skin into a well-done blister, we’d better get moving! I climb up alone to look for any markers or semblance of a trail. And just as the girls start imagining themselves being devoured by vultures, I return like a messiah. The savior, not the soccer player, okay! But instead of a trail, I offer them some climbing with a narrow, overhanging passage leading to a drop. The kind of place where you don’t want to take a tumble unless you want to make the local news! But once they’ve ditched their bags, the girls handle it like pros. We’re back on track! Well, sort of. I know where to head, but the horizon hasn’t suddenly cleared to reveal a red carpet for VIPs. Too easy! After every challenge we overcome, a new one pops up. We’re moving as fast as a galloping snail! But we’re still making progress, in a setting so vast and spectacular that even a claustrophobic would love the scenery!
After two hours, we start to make out what might vaguely resemble an exit. You’re probably thinking we’re out of the woods, that there’s no need to be cautious. See that finger? Yeah? Well, you can stick it in your eye until you tickle your cerebellum! We’re back in a dead end. Rakhabat Canyon—your merciless world! Still, we’ve got two options: Either I go left and reach the exit quickly—but die—or I go right and sign a statement saying the suicide was premeditated. To sum up, Desireless’s scalp is clearly a no-go! This is a disaster. And not just any disaster—a reinforced concrete slab just fell on our heads! I run, I search, I assess. I turn, I turn again, I turn some more! Even though I’ve got energy to spare, don’t push Grandma in the nettles—I’m starting to resign myself. We’re doomed to rot here, for better or worse...
What unbearable suspense! It’s like *24*! Will they make it out? Will they stay there? Place your bets... No more bets! Come on, use your two brain cells. There’s as much intrigue here as in *The Young and the Restless*! If you’re reading this travel journal, it means we obviously made it out of the canyon! Come closer, let me tell you... So, after a rare moment of clarity, I try an offensive on the right flank of the canyon. And finally, after eating some dust and scraping my knees, that’s that—the deal’s in the bag, nothing more to see! Well, it was much less worse than we thought! Especially for the girls, who got to enjoy my body again. There you go—once again, you’re off the mark! Enjoying my body means I served as a ladder for them to climb down easily. What were you imagining?
Alright, we can see the exit, we can feel it, we can almost touch it... It must be time to lay down our arms and sign a truce with this little countryside stroll. But don’t count on it—those last hundred meters are trickier than they look! For crying out loud, when are we going to see the end of this canyon? Now we’ve got to cross a rockslide that, with our fatigue, seems as tall as the World Trade Center. After 2001, don’t push it. We climb, we descend, we squeeze through, we crawl, and... we feast our eyes on the vast desert finally stretching out before us. Hallelujah!!! We came, we saw, we conquered! It took longer than planned, but we still won! Four hours instead of the two we’d initially planned—it throws a wrench in the day’s schedule. But hey, if I’d known, I’d have come anyway! And the girls are thrilled, Félicie too! Now, if our adventure and my photos make you drool with desire, don’t hesitate—you too can attempt this canyon solo! If you need info, I’ll give you some! But if you’re being a scaredy-cat with your fear-o-meter at zero, contact Passe-Partout—he’ll be happy to take you there...
Thirteen hours—our lips are parched! Our fly friends, with whom we bonded yesterday, are already at the meet-up spot. All we’ve got to do is dig in! Hard-boiled eggs, tuna, tomatoes, bread, and cows laughing at our faces are on the menu. It feels good going down. We also take the chance to rehydrate and dry off. Because right now, it might be the dry season, but I can tell you—those last four hours were the rainy season under our shirts! Add a thick layer of red dust, and you’ve got a good scolding from Mother Denis! I’m far from being Mr. Clean, just like my T-shirt, which said goodbye to Cajoline the teddy bear a long time ago!
Hey girls, how about sweating a little more? A Mars bar and we’re off again! We pick up our pilgrim’s staff and head toward the top of the great red sand dune! The climb—I can honestly tell you it’s easier to talk about than to do! But once we reach the top, with three kilos of sand in each shoe, it’s time for contemplation. I’ll give you a few minutes to feast on the photos, which, I warn you, will mess with your head so much you’ll want to swap your next vacation in Le Touquet for a stay in Wadi Rum!
Anyway, wherever you are in this desert, there’s always a photo to take! And they’re impossible to miss with such beautiful light and such colorful sand and mountains. Had enough? Got your fill of the photos? Alright, suck in that drool dripping from your mouth—we’re back on the road! Every meter we cover offers a new perspective that makes you want to pull out the camera and burst into song: “A kilometer on foot wears out, wears out, a kilometer on foot wears out your shoes. Two kilometers on foot wears out, wears out...” We walk a little, a lot, passionately, madly. We’re roughing it, but honestly, we don’t feel the fatigue—we’re flying! Unstoppable, that’s what we are! Unstoppable! Though I won’t hide that we’re on a drip of cereal bars to feed our bodies and plantar blisters to feed our soles. But it works—literally and figuratively! We’re even making up for lost time this morning: the Nabataean inscriptions at Al Faishiyya that look like my daughter’s drawings, Lawrence of Arabia’s “house” that’s a house in name only. But all these so-called points of interest are just an excuse! An excuse to walk with our noses in the air in this desert, alone, without noise, without a hint of wind, without a guide, without a crowd—well, I’m not talking about a herd of camels, you get that...
We keep following our little path until the sun starts showing signs of weakness. And if the sun sets, I might just follow suit with all my heart! So we need to find a little spot to spend the night under the stars, like hobos, sheltered from the wind and away from 4x4 tracks. Yeah! I’d hate to get run over in my sleep—I’d have a hard time falling back asleep. Alright, we finally settle in! Our legs are stiff, our backs hurt, our butts hurt... but we’re grinning! The pleasure of a job well done! Hey, hey, hey—let’s be clear! There’s no connection between the sore butt and the banana! Got it?...
We’ve been sitting for about twenty-eight and a half seconds when we become the target of a 4x4 heading straight for us! No doubt about it—it’s coming for us! Let me think... Who could it be? We didn’t call a taxi. Did someone order a pizza? What if it’s the desert police? Maybe wild camping is forbidden? Go straight to jail, do not pass Go. Unless it’s another prank by good old Marcel Béliveau! Nope, none of that. Actually, this is the perfect moment for my illustrated anecdote with a hardcover and binding. Here it is live:
« Hello, what are you doing here?
– Well... we’re setting up to spend the night under the stars.
– Pack up your bags and get in, I’ll take you to my place for tea! »
That’s the kind of invitation I love! Of course, you don’t refuse! Benco! All aboard, Simone!
While we were hiding in the middle of nowhere, the guy comes to find us to invite us for tea! He was chilling at home watching *Questions pour un champion* and thought, “Hey, I’ll do my good deed for the day. I’ll take a drive in the desert with my 4x4 to pick up some hobos and invite them for tea!” And it was us! *Plus belle la vie*! Don’t look at me like that—I’m not a fan of that trash...
When we arrive at his camp, Mohammed sets us up around the fire and prepares a teapot of good Bedouin “whisky,” as they say here, while striking up a conversation. He lives in the desert with his family and rents out a few tents to tourists who’ve roamed Wadi Rum with his cousin as a guide. Little by little, we’re joined by other European tourists who’ve finished their day’s excursion, as well as his cousin. The vibe is cool and family-like. Nothing like last night’s camp. The problem is, night has definitely fallen on this day, and it’ll be tough to find our wild camping spot. We take advantage and ask our host if he can take us back to our vacation spot. But Mohammed doesn’t see it that way! We’re his guests! We’ll eat with his family and sleep in his tent! No point negotiating! What hospitality! Never seen anything like it in my backpacking career! And this evening? An overdose of happiness! A meal that’ll make your belt burst, endless tea, conversations, and songs around the fire: “We come from... Wadi Rum... Made in, made in Wadi Rum.” It’s the kind of thing you didn’t plan for in the morning but that fills you with happiness when you close your eyes at night! Hats off, Mr. Mohammed. How about a little souvenir photo? “Okay for the photo, but not on Facebook!”
Well, the three scaredy-cats I’m with took the invitation literally and headed straight to bed in the tent. As for me, no one’s taking my night under the stars away from me! A night in the desert is like sleeping in the largest room of the most star-studded hotel in the world! And so, at eleven o’clock, I fall asleep by the fire, counting shooting stars, my head full of images of Wadi Rum... Could be worse! Can’t wait for tomorrow to fill our eyes with more! Anyway, tomorrow’s another adventure...
