Our Arabian Adventure is drawing to a close slightly earlier than we had anticipated as we return to Abbotts Ann in August, but with this in mind, we start to squeeze even more out of every moment.

We decide to return to Jebel Akhdar (the ‘Green Mountain’ and location of the British SAS lead Jebel Akhdar War in the 1950s). The temperature in Dubai is climbing steadily as is the humidity, so the thought of sitting under a star filled sky, in balmy temperatures, at the top of a mountain, is a happy one. Previously, we had camped at a location known as Diana’s Viewpoint, but given the fact that our littlest now runs, climbs, jumps and generally

thinks that she is at least 8 (she is in fact, 2) and most definitely knows better than everyone (one of her favourite expressions, “No way!”), particularly her parents, staying close to a sheer cliff face is not an option for us this year. We discover, however, that this area has now been closed off to the public – things change so quickly in this region.

We drive higher and just past the Sultan’s Experimental Farm, we find a fantastic wide basin dotted with acacia trees. It is busy with weekend picnickers, Arab style. Canvas tents have been erected,

rugs cover dusty ground, fires are lit and feasts prepared – this is just an average Arabian picnic. We manage to find a spot next to an ancient, gnarled tree and begin to set up camp. As our campfire is started, I notice 2 men walking towards us – one is dressed in a traditional white kandora with a red and white headdress, the other is in shorts and a t-shirt.

Both are wearing Ray Bans and both are carrying a huge fish. They greet us and offer us both the fish – they have too much food to finish themselves.

I laugh and say that it would be enough to feed at least a dozen people, but we would be delighted to take the smaller of the two. It is a huge tuna caught that morning off the seas surrounding Masirah, an island off the Eastern coast of Oman, about three hours away.

We are camping inland at an altitude of 7000 feet and we have just been given a fresh tuna! We gut it and clean it and within a short time we have a huge section of meaty fish wrapped in foil and put on the barbecue. Our generous ‘new’ friends return with a variety of biscuits, nuts and soft drinks for us and several of their party come over to take a look at our tents!

We are the only non-locals in the basin and the girls and I are the only females, but as ever in Oman, everyone is incredibly kind, generous and friendly.

That night, as the picnickers leave us alone with the local donkeys, we feast on fresh tuna.

During our days on the Green Mountain, we do some wonderful hiking through whitewashed villages, clinging to the mountainside where time appears to have stopped still. Below the villages are the terraces where crops have been tended for generations. Walking down through these terraces we realise how terribly steep they are and how the farmers must have a genetic mountain goat ability, to climb up and down their tended farms so nimbly.

Many of the terraces lower down the mountainside have been abandoned as more villagers look for work away from farming or the terraces have simply eroded away.

The scenery is spectacular. We stop for a break (Father of the Tribe is carrying the littlest in a backpack and though it is not as hot as Dubai, the temperatures here are still around 30 during the day), and

watch a farmer (wearing wellies!) as he waits for something. As a mobile phone alarm goes off he goes into action – he changes the direction that the water in the falaj is flowing (a falaj is a series of manmade channels that wind their way around the mountainside, starting as underground aqueducts some of which date back to the Iron Age).

He takes rags and small rocks from one part of the falaj allowing water to flow freely thus watering his crops while elsewhere along the system, another farmer will be damming part of the falaj, stopping the flow of water to his crops. This is

a method that has been used for thousands of years, the only difference now is that alarms on mobile phones are used!

We find a spring and pool hidden at the edge of one village, surrounded by a steep rock face. The Tribe join the local children in swimming in the cool, deep water, together with the frogs and tiny fish. We return after another hike for all of us to swim during prayer time. It is magical and memorable and we feel privileged to have found this secret place.

One last rather ‘exciting’ moment occurs as we are breaking camp.  The Eldest suddenly yells at FoTT as we are folding a ground sheet.

“Scorpion!”  She’s right.  The trip could have had a rather different ending!  However, it is a perfect last Omani camping trip in an area that really has been suspended in time.

Mother of the Tribe