Failure to Plan...

"Failure to plan is planning to fail."

Whoever coined this rubbish obviously never took a road trip to Oman.  We did it with no plan except to cross the border armed with tents, a portable grill, and a cooler full of food, and the trip was anything but a failure. We spent days meandering through quiet fishing villages, secluded beaches, and alien looking mountain ranges. We pitched tents on sand, built crackling fires, ate food off of the grill, swam in the dolphin-inhabited waters, and had a once-in-a-lifetime trip without anything even resembling a plan.

The destination was the Musandam peninsula, a small, detached portion of the country of Oman.  If you look at the map below, you'll see a small brown spot that is separated from the rest of Oman by the United Arab Emirates.  This little area has been dubbed "The Norway of the Arabian Peninsula."  And it proved to be worthy of its name.

We knew we were getting close to the border when we saw cows slumping alongside the roads - not exactly a common sight in the Emirate cities like Abu Dhabi and Dubai.  It was, however, obvious that we were still in the UAE because the majority of the cars zipping past the lazy cows were flashy Range Rovers like the one in the picture below.

In addition to the free-roaming cattle, the UAE/Oman border also hosted a multitude of wandering mountain goats. The one below hiked his way up to the top of a pile of cinder blocks where he was surveying the land for, presumably, a plastic bag to chew on.

We got to the border point and handed the patrol our passports.  Luckily they didn't ask us what we planned to do in Musandam, Oman, because we didn't really know.  They stamped us and sent us on our way.

UAE/Oman Border

Once we crossed the border, the highway shot us out into a scenic coastline drive where the jagged Arabian mountains disappeared into the ocean.

We drove along the coastline for about thirty minutes before we stopped for a break.  When we stopped, we happened upon these two fellows who were throwing out their nets in the shallows.

The highway that runs along the coastline is only a few years old, so these Omani fishing villages were untouched by visitors for thousands of years.  The only way to reach them was by sea.  The picture below features, in the foreground, an old dhow boat that ran aground ages ago.  In the background, you can see another, more modern ship, that came to rest forever in shallows of this bay.  

Emily was visiting from America, and she accompanied me on the trip.  We stopped to admire the scenery, and it was gorgeous, but we had to get back on the road to find a place to set up camp before it got dark.

Before the sun had a chance to set, we happened upon a sandy beach and we set up camp.   Below is the view from inside the tent.

We spent the night eating grilled food by the campfire and regretting that I hadn't brought my guitar.

I know it looks like it, but I'm not naked in this picture.

Day two lead us to the most scenic view I've ever laid eyes on, and that was before we took a dhow boat out with an Omani and went snorkeling and dolphin watching.

We decided to go for a drive to Khor al Najd, because our Lonely Planet Guidebook told us it was "worth seeing."  Worth seeing was a gross understatement; the place looked like a postcard.  But it was not easy to get there.  Our Lonely Planet Guidebook said, "To get to Khor al Najd, a 4X4 is recommended."

(Dear Lonely Planet Guidebook - please change the phrase "A 4X4 is recommended" to "A 4X4 is absolutely necessary, as is a strong stomach and a death wish." We navigated deserted highways without names for a long time before we saw a sign pointing us straight up a mountain.  Against my better judgement, we followed a rocky path that wound up the side of a mountain towards Khor al Najd.  A slip of the steering wheel would have sent us careening over the edge of the mountain.  We had to stop every half kilometer so that Leah and Shannon could let their stomachs settle.  Both of them were a sharp turn away from painting the walls of the Toyota.

When we got to the top of the mountain, we stopped and took pictures of the side we just scaled.

In the left portion of the picture, you can see the road we drove up on our way to the top.  In the center of the picture, you can see how small the road looks down at the bottom. 

We were impressed by the view, but what we didn't know was that we were looking at the wrong side of the mountain.  Just on the other side was the picturesque view that our guidebook was talking about.  We drove another 100 meters or so before the rocks opened up to show us this...

To help you get an idea of how high up we were, look at the little white specs at the bottom right of the picture.  Those are good-sized boats.

Leah and Shannon conferred with their stomachs for a bit before deciding that we could drive down to the bottom, so long as I drove slowly and let them get out for fresh air whenever it was required.

At the bottom, we watched mountain goats climb around on rocks while abandoned fishing boats rocked back and forth in the eerily calm waters.

Emily captured a photo of me...

...capturing a photo of this.

After we'd taken in our fill, we drove back up the mountain.  Then back down the mountain.  And then we headed back towards our camp sight.

That's when we saw a small building boasting "Dhow rides, Snorkeling, and Dolphin Viewing."  We went in and were welcomed by an Indian fellow who spoke fluent English and offered us cold drinks.  He told us to come back in 30 minutes and he'd have someone there to take us out on the dhow boat.

Our captain.  

We piddled out past the docks and into the rocky fjords that Musandam is famous for.  Our captain made us hot tea and showed us the more scenic parts of the landscape.

And then, he steered us to this...

My first ever wild-dolphin experience.  Epic.

To top off the trip, he took us to a small fishing village that's unaccessible by land.  The residents' children take boats to school instead of busses.  Near this village, we went snorkeling.  Unfortunately, my iPhone doesn't take photos under water, because the coral life was brilliant.

Of course, none of this was planned.  We knew we were going to camp in Musandam, and we had the Lonely Planet Guide to Oman, the rest of it worked itself out.

If failing to plan is planning to fail, I think I'll plan to fail more often.