CYCLING?! Up Jebel Shams?! ⛰️ Oman’s Grand Canyon

Day 260. 31km (67952kms)

Of course I should’ve realised this little shelter would be in use by morning; men in dishdashes convened, rugs were hung for sale. I was a subject of interest, but I was in the way.

After researching the route, I’d planned to hitchhike up the road to Jebel Shams. But in a fit of madness this morning I changed my mind and decided to ride. Sure, Komoot showed some steep sections, but overall the gradient was reasonable. What I didn’t understand at the time is that I hadn’t allowed for averaging.

I found a small shop to buy the the extra supplies needed for camping at the top and set about the climb. The first challenge was a 3km stretch rising 400m. At times the gradient tipped 15%. I began to walk and push. Half way by distance and altitude the road turned to dirt. I was heartbroken, I’d understood the last 8kms to be dirt; much of which was reasonably flat. Now I found myself pushing Gibbo up a sandy stone road averaging 10% but as the road dipped the climbs were far steeper. I was stopping to catch my breath every few hundred metres now, my ETA was creeping closer and closer to sunset. (To think I thought I’d be going for a hike around the canyon this afternoon!) Whenever cars passed me breathless beside the bike I turned away so as not to start a conversation. Nevertheless a couple of cars including the police stopped to ask if I needed help. I was suffering but I knew I could do it. Slowly.

To my delight in the middle of nowhere the dirt road returned to bitumen for the final 5kms! As expected the road levelled out somewhat and so I arrived at the first lookout on rather than next to the bike. I heard my name called out. It was Ahmed who’d given me a lift down from Jebel Aktar a few days back now guiding some Aussie tourists on their way home from watching the Socceroos in Qatar.

Heading over to the sunset view I was looking for a camp but the rocks on this mountain are very sharp. Turning around I saw a line of 4x4s with roof top tents lined up against the rim. The canyon walls burned red in the last of the light as I made my way to the edge. Arriving as the last colour faded to grey a nice English couple, sympathetic at having passed me pushing, made me a coffee and gave me a seat out of the wind.

As the wind picked up further I excused myself to go sit inside my tent pitched by the cliff-side held in place only by a pannier in each corner.
The wind soon died though, the temperature dropped and in all my clothes I climbed into both sleeping bags for the first time this year. Granted I’m at 2000m but it was only a few weeks back, in Oman, that I’d been sleeping undressed on top of the bedding, tent open trying to catch any breeze.

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