Day was still young as we rode between two great pikes of sandstone to the foot of a long, soft slope poured down from the domed hills in front of us. It was tamarisk-covered: the beginning of the Valley of Rumm, they said ... Our little caravan grew self-conscious, and fell dead quiet, afraid and ashamed to flaunt its smallness in the presence of these stupendous hills.
Landscapes, in childhood's dreams, were so vast and silent. We looked backward through our memory for the prototype up which all men had walked between such walls toward such an open square as that in front where this road seemed to end.
Later, when we were often riding inland, my mind used to turn me from the direct road, to clear my senses by a night in Rumm and by the ride down its dawn-lit valley towards the shining plains, or up its valley in the sunset towards that glowing square which my timid anticipation never let me reach. I would say, Shall I ride this time, beyond the Khazail, and know it all? But in truth I liked Rumm too much.T.E. Lawrence. Seven Pillars of Wisdom.
Eli, our fifteen-year old guide, bridles his camel. We found him through Aodeh al Zlapeh.
This is where the road ends.
Billy has pictures of me, I have pictures of Billy. One day we'll have to swap.
Eli takes the lead.
Nabatean petroglyphs
It's not really as hot as it looks. 
A siq, or cleft, in the cliffs.
This was my baby!
A Bedu camp near ours.
Prepping the camels the second afternoon.
Eli's father takes a siesta.
The camel takes a siesta.
Sunset by Gebel Rum.
The colors of Rum never stop shifting and changing.
I'll post the complete set on photobucket soon. My camera busted during a dust storm in the desert (and no, I'm still not tired of saying that), so these kind of get fuzzy towards the end.
No comments:
Post a Comment