Diamonds in the Dust

Two weeks in the sultanate of Oman

A crowd is forming below me—men in long white robes and billowing pants lean against their cars and bicycles. Someone lays on a horn, waving a hand out a car window. Arabic pop music blares from another vehicle. “Be careful up there!” calls an Indian man pulling on a cigarette, his singsong tone expressing no real concern.

Yet his warning is appreciated as I tap on a hollow flake that looks like it could come off in my arms, dropping me onto a line of gear squeezed between nubs of dusty, ancient coral. The crowd is unnerving. Here in Oman, on the eastern edge of the Arabian Peninsula, climbers are as rare as an Omani dressed in traditional dishdasha and embroidered cap would be back home in Idaho.

I try not to curse too loudly. As a woman in a Muslim country, I’ve tried to be courteous as we travel through small, conservative villages, wearing a headscarf, pants, and long-sleeve shirts. Now, however, with the temps in the 90s, I’m turning into a sweaty stew in my windshirt, and I’m not sure how the crowd will react if I strip to my tank top. Instead of hanging out at the climbing gym, I should have trained for this trip in a sauna.

“Off belay!” I call down, searching for a spot to belay up my partners, Andy Tyson and Gabe Rogel. It appears the crack has never been climbed before. And likely never will be again. It was just something that we’d spotted from the car window, too irresistible to pass up. But that’s the wonderful problem we’re finding with Oman—there are so many opportunities along the way that the original destination becomes irrelevant.

The crowd filters back to their bicycles and cars. As I string my cordelette through a web of pieces, a low, droning call to prayer, broadcast over a loudspeaker tacked to the rafter of some hidden mosque or a palm tree, echoes through the canyon. Below me, a construction worker prays toward Mecca, kneeling on a carpet beside his bulldozer. Dusk filters through the warm air. A breeze coming off the nearby ocean rustles the date palms, bringing the smell of salt.

Andy, Gabe, and I came to Oman on a whim, looking for a warm, off-the-beaten-path place where we could experience another culture. We surfed the Internet, found omanclimbing.com, and opened pictures on Google Earth. Convinced that Oman was worth a visit, we ordered Oman Off Road, a 4X4 driving guide recommended for accessing the climbing areas, and booked our tickets.