The year 2001 was a strange one. We had lurched from one family crisis to another and from one health crisis to another. I was back in Oman working and living with my parents. The world was changing ( such a cliche!) in ways that we couldn't really fathom at the time. By November that year we were all fed up and antsy and needed to get out of the city. We decided it was time to leave the city and go away somewhere far away. Now, in Oman this is the simplest thing to do really. An uncle and his family lived in the seaside town of Sur - about 300 Km away from Muscat situated in the Sharqiya region. And so, it was to Sur that we decided to go.
At one time Sur had been a bustling port with trade routes extending to India and beyond. It was ( and still is) the location of one of the biggest ship building yards in the region. Great , beautiful wooden dhows stand in various stages of construction even today. On this trip we had another destination in mind. Remote as Sur might be ,cut off by mountains and the desert from the 'capital area', for those who have complete isolation in mind , the Shariqiya region has other hidden treasures as well one of them being Ras al Hadd. This magical piece of land lies almost at the exact point where the Gulf of Oman meets the Arabian Sea. There is a fishing village situated here. And in recent years this area has become the site of several archeological excavations.But more fascinating , this is also the place where wild sea turtles come ashore to lay eggs. In the months of May-October , literally hundreds of them come ashore and lay their eggs. The government, under the leadership of His Majesty Sultan Qaboos, to its eternal credit has worked tirelessly to successfully preserve this sanctuary for this endangered species.
We were of course late for what must be one of the greatest shows on earth. In any case, we decided a trip out to the beach was called for. A group of nine of us got together with two four wheel drives between us. We set out from Sur at 1.00 a.m. Excursions to the beach take place at night. These are controlled excursions and carefully timed so as to not interfere too much with the turtles. The drive out to the beach was a truly memorable ( and bumpy) one. There were no roads and the track passed between towering canyons and over mud flats and sand dunes. The landscape had an ethereal quality to it. Shapes and shadows of desert scrub standing guard over the ancient land lend a Daliesque surreality to it. Jagged peaks stretched up into the sky. The sky was an inky midnight blue with stars scattered across it. A half moon lay placidly dimly lighting our way. Considering the lateness of the hour, I had been expecting to doze off. But the scene before me was unreal and I didn't want to miss a single thing. Except for the fact of the cars and the presence of the other human beings in the vehicle with me, I would have had a hard time believing that we were still in the 21st century.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity and getting lost a few times , we reached the beach. As if to complete the picture of surreality, we were met at the gate of the reserve by a wizened old man dressed in a traditional dish dasha and carrying the only flashlight between us. No cameras or flashlights were allowed on the reserve ( which suited me just fine!). Besides us there were three tourists that brought the total number of visitors to 12.
We set off for the beach on foot. A silence had settled over the group and when we did speak it was barely above a whisper. The night and the place demanded that reverence. The beach where we ended up was a wide horse shoe shaped cove. The sand was white and gleamed in the moonlight. The sea was calm and the waves gently lapped the shore. A soft breeze was the only other movement in the still night. The cliffs stood there looking out to sea as they had perhaps stood for thousands of years. And then we saw her- a lone turtle gently making her way to the sea. The old man whispered to us that she'd probably laid her eggs further up the shore and was now making her way back. None of us moved as we watched her. There is something truly awe-inspiring about these almost primeval creatures- perhaps it's that sense of preternatural calm. They seem to carry the serenity of the deep seas as if they had somehow imbibed that deep, deep stillness. Today, I remember no details of her form save that she looked like one of the boulders on shore had decided to start moving and then there is one other detail- the trail of luminescence. As the turtle moved toward the sea, a trail of glowing blue lit up the path behind her. I bent down and scooped some of it up along with the wet sand. The bits of blue glowed - a deep electric blue. This was a kind of magic that I had not touched before. They looked like bits of stars in the palm of my hand. I looked down at my palm and I looked up at the sky. One felt like the reflection of the other. I wish I had been able to preserve it somehow- this physical evidence of that perfect moment. And then one by one the specks of blue went out as I stared at them. The turtle had left and I was left on shore looking out to sea.
( The Omani government has since opened the Ras al-Jinz turtle reserve in 2008.And trust me when I say that it will be well worth the visit.)
At one time Sur had been a bustling port with trade routes extending to India and beyond. It was ( and still is) the location of one of the biggest ship building yards in the region. Great , beautiful wooden dhows stand in various stages of construction even today. On this trip we had another destination in mind. Remote as Sur might be ,cut off by mountains and the desert from the 'capital area', for those who have complete isolation in mind , the Shariqiya region has other hidden treasures as well one of them being Ras al Hadd. This magical piece of land lies almost at the exact point where the Gulf of Oman meets the Arabian Sea. There is a fishing village situated here. And in recent years this area has become the site of several archeological excavations.But more fascinating , this is also the place where wild sea turtles come ashore to lay eggs. In the months of May-October , literally hundreds of them come ashore and lay their eggs. The government, under the leadership of His Majesty Sultan Qaboos, to its eternal credit has worked tirelessly to successfully preserve this sanctuary for this endangered species.
 |
| Ras al Jinz (Photo: from this blogger) |
We were of course late for what must be one of the greatest shows on earth. In any case, we decided a trip out to the beach was called for. A group of nine of us got together with two four wheel drives between us. We set out from Sur at 1.00 a.m. Excursions to the beach take place at night. These are controlled excursions and carefully timed so as to not interfere too much with the turtles. The drive out to the beach was a truly memorable ( and bumpy) one. There were no roads and the track passed between towering canyons and over mud flats and sand dunes. The landscape had an ethereal quality to it. Shapes and shadows of desert scrub standing guard over the ancient land lend a Daliesque surreality to it. Jagged peaks stretched up into the sky. The sky was an inky midnight blue with stars scattered across it. A half moon lay placidly dimly lighting our way. Considering the lateness of the hour, I had been expecting to doze off. But the scene before me was unreal and I didn't want to miss a single thing. Except for the fact of the cars and the presence of the other human beings in the vehicle with me, I would have had a hard time believing that we were still in the 21st century.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity and getting lost a few times , we reached the beach. As if to complete the picture of surreality, we were met at the gate of the reserve by a wizened old man dressed in a traditional dish dasha and carrying the only flashlight between us. No cameras or flashlights were allowed on the reserve ( which suited me just fine!). Besides us there were three tourists that brought the total number of visitors to 12.
We set off for the beach on foot. A silence had settled over the group and when we did speak it was barely above a whisper. The night and the place demanded that reverence. The beach where we ended up was a wide horse shoe shaped cove. The sand was white and gleamed in the moonlight. The sea was calm and the waves gently lapped the shore. A soft breeze was the only other movement in the still night. The cliffs stood there looking out to sea as they had perhaps stood for thousands of years. And then we saw her- a lone turtle gently making her way to the sea. The old man whispered to us that she'd probably laid her eggs further up the shore and was now making her way back. None of us moved as we watched her. There is something truly awe-inspiring about these almost primeval creatures- perhaps it's that sense of preternatural calm. They seem to carry the serenity of the deep seas as if they had somehow imbibed that deep, deep stillness. Today, I remember no details of her form save that she looked like one of the boulders on shore had decided to start moving and then there is one other detail- the trail of luminescence. As the turtle moved toward the sea, a trail of glowing blue lit up the path behind her. I bent down and scooped some of it up along with the wet sand. The bits of blue glowed - a deep electric blue. This was a kind of magic that I had not touched before. They looked like bits of stars in the palm of my hand. I looked down at my palm and I looked up at the sky. One felt like the reflection of the other. I wish I had been able to preserve it somehow- this physical evidence of that perfect moment. And then one by one the specks of blue went out as I stared at them. The turtle had left and I was left on shore looking out to sea.
( The Omani government has since opened the Ras al-Jinz turtle reserve in 2008.And trust me when I say that it will be well worth the visit.)
No comments:
Post a Comment