Go, tell it to the mountains

This morning, we have 35 degrees Celsius here in Dubai at 9 am. Along with a hot, desert-dusty breeze, that gave me a pretty good idea of how it will be in summer as I walked towards the office building.

This is also about as hot as it felt in Hatta, a small town in the Hajar mountains in the north of the emirate of Dubai. I went there last Friday, as I had heard it's a popular place for weekend trips, due to its slightly milder climate as a result of its altitude. I was done fairly quickly with the place, though.

Arriving around midday by public bus, which takes at least two hours and takes you through an area that is part of Oman (your UAE car insurance won't cover you there, by the way), I found an extremely quiet, dusty, low-building, slightly run-down place, stretching along a couple of roads on a barren plane and surrounded by spectacular mountains, dozing in the blaring sun. It became livelier after the Friday prayer, of course, as the countless pairs of shoes lying in neat groups and rows in front of the main local mosque were reclaimed by their owners.

But still I could only walk around, peer into small rundown backyards, admire some old defense towers and sip tea in the shadow of a gnarled tree until the local heritage village opened. Which is a variation of the themes you find in any heritage village: buildings from the period between roughly 1850 to 1940, made from wood and palm leaves, with boards telling you about the role of the date and the camel, and a few bits and pieces about traditional life. Climbing a meandering foot path, I enjoyed a panoramic view from the foot of one of the old defense towers - which I can't share with you, because my camera has decided to part company with me (the pictures here are graciously provided items on loan from other web users).

I felt I had seen all the things in that heritage village already in other places - is it the same company setting up those places? Striking, at any rate, there's such unanimous agreement about what constitutes the country's heritage. Then, of course, modern UAE history really comes from around 1800 (which is also roughly the time a large group of people settled permanently in the old Dubai area), despite roots going back hundreds and thousands of years - which are best explored at the Al Ain museum.

Still I found it enjoyable to check out the various buildings and yards, which offered new perspectives and sights every few steps - all against the fantastic backdrop of the rugged Hajar mountains, which sometimes appear to be built up of huge piles of chiseled stones rather than one homogeneous mass of rock, and a clear blue sky. In a cluttered souvenir shop clammed into a low-roof reconstructed building, I found another souvenir to take home. Even after the short 1km walk from the bus station to the heritage village I gave up the idea of going up the mountains - the sun was relentless, and it felt as if I was sweating out fluid by the litres with every few steps. It must have been here that Frank Herbert came up with the distilling suits featured in his Dune saga.

Größere Kartenansicht

Some guidebooks suggest staying in Hatta overnight - but there's only one over-prized hotel there, and you're really done fairly quickly with the place if you don't want to go on a 4WD mountain tour or to the Hatta pools - natural ponds with clear water all year. I didn't want to go there, as I didn't feel like another mountain tour (which I had done in Musandam), and also because I've heard it's somewhat disappointing, as supposedly the place is not as clean as it used to be anymore. But the east coast is very near, so a stop on the way to Fujairah is a good idea.

In urgent need of some cash, I walked towards what I perceived to be the city center after the heritage village tour, as I had been told there's an ATM. After half an hour, which seemed like about three hours, I finally met another person crazy enough to be around on foot. Of course I learned I had taken the wrong way. But on a positive note, he told me a bus back to Dubai was about to leave, and insisted on paying for me (just seven dirhams, by the way). Too tired to be polite, I accepted after only some half-hearted attempts to refuse the offer.

On the bus back, I enjoyed once more the scenery when we drove along the desert highway cutting its way through 'Big Red", a 100m high sand dune which draws a big crowd of off-roaders at the weekend and which stands out strikingly against the sky. Then dozed off.