South to Sur, Home of the Dhow Builders by Graham Simmons

The Middle East has acquired a sinister reputation lately. Saddam’s antics have been compounded by the insane acts of Hezbollah and right-wing Israeli terrorists, and the Bin Laden gang still appears to be hell-bent on creating havoc. To a casual observer, the whole region would appear to be a 'no-go' area.

But the Sultanate of Oman, overlooking the Gulf of Hormuz, is very different. In this calm and peacefully "un-Middle Eastern" country, 10,000 foot high mountains, in a thousand shades of purple and green, tower over palm-studded valleys that are often fertile and lush.

Multi-lane freeways link the major centres of Oman; however, a 4WD becomes a necessity when you get off the main roads. In particular, the coastal 'road' from the ancient boat-building centre of Sur to the capital, Muscat, is like driving over a Himalayan moonscape.

Oman was for many centuries one of the world’s most closed countries. Prior to 1970, there were no schools, no newspapers, and no radios or television in Muscat, and just 10 km of paved roads in the entire country. But the new Oman has made huge strides in the last 28 years, transforming itself virtually into a 'model society', with oil profits fuelling near-universal prosperity.

Together with Sheikh Amer, driver Nasser and myself, our Toyota Land-Cruiser sets out for the coastal town of Sur, via the inland route, a distance (without detours) of about 320 km from Muscat (by contrast, the coastal route is a mere 110 km). The landscape alternates between stark plains and lush super-greenery, a verdant patchwork quilt of vegetable plots and citrus orchards.

Along the roadside, craggy peaks tower in all directions. Some look like ziggurats, others like twisted rhomboids arrogantly thrusting their forms out of the ground. So jagged and 'alive' are these peaks that they appear still to be growing.

From Ibra, we drive deep into the desert, a distance of maybe 40 km, and call in at the Bedu camp of Abu Dhalma, near the Masroon road. Greeting us are 60 year-old Rashid (who looks about 80) and 30 year-old Mahmoud, with the appearance of a man of at least 50. The harsh desert sun ages its victims quickly, their skins prematurely turning to a dried-out leather.

The ladies of the encampment are more fortunate. Wearing the traditional birka mask, their faces are protected. So, they remain pretty and graceful well into middle age. Behind the mask you can see the play of flashing eyes and intriguing smiles.

The big extended family at Abu Dhalma lives (by choice, it must be said) in conditions that might seem primitive to foreign visitors and to other Omanis. But then you see that every object has its place, each possession lovingly positioned and protected.

Sheikh Amer has been visiting this area for over 25 years, and knows most of the local Bedu well. We drop into camp after camp to say hello. At each camp we're surrounded by a group of kids, so totally mystified by the presence of a white stranger that all they can do is gape and gawk. Handing out a few small gifts helps to break the ice.

We’re now cruising the very edge of the Wahiba Sands, a stretch of desolation crossed by the British explorer Wilfred Thesiger in the late 1940s. To our left, the rolling dunes stretch for hundreds of kilometres. As -- portable armchair travellers -- in our air-con vehicle, we’re cocooned from the hardships faced by Thesiger, but also insulated from the raw experience.

Back on the main road we cruise at 170 km an hour towards the ancient city of Sur. What brings visitors here is the ambiance of a stunning harbour, where time worn fortresses tower over one of the world’s last remaining fleets of wooden sailing boats.

The ancient Phoenicians allegedly founded the fascinating and exotic town of Sur, over five thousand years ago. One main boat yard and several smaller yards still produce the traditional wooden dhows that for thousands of years have plied the Indian Ocean, carrying passengers and cargo from Oman to Zanzibar and India, and as far east as China. And it was in Sur back in 1980 that the Irish explorer Tim Severin assembled a crew to re-create an ancient Oman dhow, which they subsequently sailed to China in the epic "Sinbad Voyage". Tom Vosmer, one of the original Sindbad crew members, now acts as consultant to the Western Australian Maritime Museum in Fremantle. Ever since the historic voyage to China, he has re-visited the Sultanate of Oman at least once a year. "Oman is full of surprises", he says, "and they’re all pleasant ones!"

Vosmer is surprised by the renaissance of the dhow-building industry in Sur. "The number of dhows being built would have peaked in 1992", he says, "but even today there are still many more boat-builders in Sur than there were in 1980."

Just walking the streets of Sur is a buzz. Worth visiting is the old and now-restored Sur Fort. Here you can see the ancient flintlocks, the cannons that once repelled invaders, and through a decorative archway, a lush vista of date palms swaying in the breeze. In the main dhow building yard, work on six medium-sized dhows is proceeding apace (or, to be honest, a-slow). Two workers manhandle a large spokeshave plane, laboriously shaping one of the struts that will form the bow of the ship. After about eight months' work, the vessel will be completed. And the price? A mere 60,000 Omani rials (£96,000), with motor.

Today, Sur has to juggle ancient tradition with thorough-going modernity. While you can still hear the sounds of the hammer driving in the long iron nails, you also hear the drone of the outboard motors that have come to stay. Seafaring traditions are still strong, but today the coastal fishermen bring in the catch using trawlers with powerful engines and refrigerators. The dhow-building industry survives thanks to wealthy boat enthusiasts from Saudi Arabia and other Gulf countries, drawn by the advantages of a vessel that will still be seaworthy long after fibreglass has deteriorated and cracked in the harsh sunlight.

The 4WD track back to Muscat hugs the coast and, in places, I fear that at any minute the crumbling edges will give way and we’ll careen into the ocean, a hundred metres or more below.

Half an hour out of Sur, we reach the ruins of the ancient city of Qalhat, believed to be also around 5,000 years old. Old Qalhat is marked by the hillside tomb of the saint Bibi Maryam, believed by some to be the Virgin Mary, who is revered by many Muslims. Her tomb, facing out to sea, is one of the few structures not razed by the Portuguese in the 1500s. Then you crest a hill, and lying next to wadi inlets is the 'new' Qalhat, its satellite dishes providing a weird contrast to the ancient ruins.

The ancient coastal town of Tiwi, with its decorative house doors, lies between the gorges of Wadi Tiwi and Wadi Shabs. So steep is the road up from Wadi Shab that you seem to be climbing up to an eagle’s nest in the sky. Both wadis offer stunning scenery and great picnic spots; the gorges can be explored on foot or (if there hasn’t been too much rain) by 4WD.

Past the Bimah Sink Hole and the fishing village of Fans, the road improves. Soon you’re back in the super-modern city of Muscat, but still surrounded by the hills and harbourscapes of this surreal country. And there’s plenty more exploring still left to do!