Chasing the Sunset in Jordan's Desert

by Lindsay Nieminen (Canada)

Making a local connection Jordan

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Our driver, Mahmoud, races through the red desert sand of Jordan’s Wadi Rum, the yellow sun low in the sky in front of us. My boys scream with glee as we bounce and bump on padded benches attached to the bed of Mahmoud’s Toyota 4x4. Only a few hundred lucky visitors get to see a Wadi Rum sunset each night; it is something we are about to experience for the first time. We approach a few parked trucks and see about two dozen people climbing up a red sandstone mountain to watch the yellow ball of fire touch the horizon in front of us. “We must be here,” I thought, but Mahmoud does not stop. Around the mountain we go, racing as fast as the four wheel drive tires will go, on the soft desert sand, the golden light casting long shadows across the empty desert. Suddenly, Mahmoud hits the breaks and the Toyota slides to a stop. We clamber off the bolted down benches and over the back of the truck, our bare feet landing in the sun-warmed sand. “We have to hurry,” Mahmoud beckons, as the yellow ball of fire threatens to touch the horizon. The boys needed no more encouragement and were off, quickly scrambling up the sandstone mountain straight to the top. I tried not to hold my breath as I watched them run along sections that were no more than 8 feet wide. A slip or a fall could mean they would fall, fifty feet or more off the edge. I followed Mahmoud and the boys up the hill, gazing at the panoramic views all around me, golden light reflecting off the jagged sandstone mountains, the blue sky darkening as dusk approached. We reached the top and climbed into a tucked away crevice, shielding us from the cool evening breeze. I sat still as the sun touched the hills and watched as it quickly disappeared behind the mountains of Wadi Rum, not to be seen again until morning. Dusk fell on the desert in Wadi Rum, and the sense of vastness of the valley, known to many as the Valley of the Moon, caused a sense of quiet reflection inside of me. How lucky I was to be here, on top of this small sandstone hill, watching the end of a day, and anticipating what tomorrow would bring. The boys, eager to play, brought me out of my quiet place, back to reality as they gleefully played atop the sandstone mountain. It was getting dark, time to return to camp and enjoy a hot cup of the aromatic, sweet Bedouin tea and gaze up at the vast starry sky, before climbing into our tents until morning.