遠離塵囂的阿曼之旅

I am not a born adventurer， which is not to say that the appeal of the unfamiliar or the power of nature is lost on me； nor do I suffer from a lack of curiosity. But I don’t like heights， and I’m not particularly fond of not knowing what comes next.

So when I find myself some 9，000 feet above sea level， tiptoeing along a narrow path on the side of Jebel Shams—the highest mountain in Oman and part of the Al Hajar range， which curves along the Arab country’s northern coast—I can’t help but think that I’ve come a long way. Below me are the unforgiving， Wadi Ghul 1）rusty brown 2）ravines of Wadi Ghul， known as the Grand Canyon of the Middle East； above， the 3）jagged peaks seem to rise higher and higher into cloudless skies.

“So do you feel like 4）Indiana Jane yet？” asks my French boyfriend， Jerome， who is waiting for me to catch up. He grew up in the Alps and for him happiness is climbing up， skiing down or just looking at a mountain.

“A little，” I say， watching where I put my feet， as the so-called trail is barely 5）perceptible. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t confirmed that the 6）cragged facades look steeper than they really are. We reach a bend where the cliffs form a towering U-shape around us， then we sit on a 7）boulder and eat an orange.

We don’t say much； it feels somehow impolite to disturb the quiet. Two days before， we’d set out on the five-day， 500-mile road trip from Abu Dhabi， in the 8） United Arab Emirates， to Muscat， the capital of Oman， in search of such serenity. That， and the diverse and rugged landscapes for which Oman is known， including towering mountain ranges， stretches of untouched desert and 9）lush oases tucked in rocky canyons.

We’d left Abu Dhabi before dawn， stopping in the desert between there and Al Ain—the Emirate’s second largest city—to go dune-driving at sunrise. We tore through stretches of camel-colored sand， me sitting in the back seat of our Nissan Patrol， Jerome at the wheel， Jimi Hendrix’s Voodoo Child blasting from the stereo. I 10）squealed as a mix of 11）elation and 12）nausea took hold.

From there， we headed east into Oman. Jerome marveled at the highway that had been a dirt road when he last visited the country a decade ago； mosques and houses were being built by the dozen， rising from the otherwise barren lands that 13）flank the highway. The further we went， the more building sites， road extensions and infrastructure improvements we saw； Oman feels like an entire land under construction. And， in fact， it sort of is； in the next five years the country plans to spend $8 billion to build some 7，500 miles of road.

Deep in the Al Hajar range， in an area known for its temperate climate and terrace-style orchards， where 14）pomegranates， 15）apricots， apples and figs have been grown for centuries， we spent the night at a cliff-side hotel on Jabal Akhdar （Green Mountain）. Our room offered views of verdant mountaintops and plunging 16）gorges that seemed to swallow the sun at dusk.

The next morning， we roamed the pomegranate orchards of the Saiq Plateau. By mid-afternoon we headed for Nizwa， one of the country’s oldest cities， where we visited the Nizwa Fort， a 17）cylindrical 17th-century defense tower that is an imposing example of traditional Islamic architecture， with intricate detailing and a 18）symmetric building style. We spent the early evening perusing silver shops—Nizwa is famous for its chased and pierced jewelry. Then， while sitting on plastic chairs in a parking lot across from the 19）souk， we ate the best chicken 20）shawarma of our lives to the sound of evening prayer.

Some 12 hours later， we’re sitting on a boulder and eating our orange， with no other humans in sight. The sense of being the last two people on earth makes it impossible to avoid getting a bit reflective， and I think about the privilege of being out of one’s normal context and comfort zone.

I wonder if I am catching on to this adventure thing， as we’re back in the car and making our way down the mountain via steep， unpaved strips of rocky earth that take us through Wadi Bani Awf—a gorge that is considered Oman’s most thrilling 21）off-road experience. The four-hour descent is spectacular and terrifying； the only things stopping the car from tumbling into a ravine are Jerome， who learned to drive on the icy roads of Chamonix， and a bit of luck. Longhair mountain goats scale cliffs as we pass through the tiny， remote town of Balad Sayt， situated in an oasis of palm trees， before emerging from the rocky trail and finding our way back to the highway.

We drive the remaining 100 miles or so toward Muscat， where we’ll spend the next day lying on the beach， 22）haggling at the Old Muttrah Souk， 23）ogling Sultan Qaboos bin Said Al Said’s palace and admiring the coastline dotted with elegant white houses， before heading back to Abu Dhabi for a flight home.

As we approach Muscat by night we pass the spectacularly lit Grand Mosque， which dominates the low skyline， its glowing dome an ornate sphere floating atop tons of pale Indian sandstone.

And then we pass it again， and again， stuck in a maze of roadwork and detours that seem to get more tangled at every turn. Recent changes to the highway have rendered our 2012 map useless， and the city is apparently so much in 24）flux that even our GPS can’t keep up. I consider turning on my iPhone to see if that little blue dot will help us find our way， but I decide we should allow ourselves to be lost， at least for a little while.

我不是一個天生的冒險家，這并不是說未知事物或者自然力量對我沒有吸引力，也不是說我缺乏好奇心。但是我不喜歡高處，也不是特別喜歡那種不知道接下來會發生什么的感覺。

因此當我發現自己身處海撥高度約9000英尺之上，踮著腳沿著杰貝爾夏姆斯山的一條狹窄通道行走時，我不禁想到自己已經走了很長一段路。杰貝爾夏姆斯山是阿曼最高的山，也是艾爾哈賈爾山脈的一部分，這條山脈圍繞著阿拉伯國家的北部海岸。我的腳下就是無情的銹棕色瓦迪古勒溝壑，有“中東大峽谷”之稱；而往上看，則是鋸齒狀的山峰，節節攀升，仿佛一直延伸至無云的天際里。

“有感覺自己像是女版印第安納·瓊斯嗎？”我的法國男友杰羅姆這樣問道，他正等著我跟上去。他從小在阿爾卑斯山長大，對于他而言，幸福就是攀山、滑雪或就只是盯著一座山看。

“有一點兒，”我邊回答道，邊留心著下腳處，因為那所謂的小道幾乎微不可察。要不是確信崎嶇的山勢實際上并沒有看起來那么陡峭，我現在絕不會站在這里。接著我們到達了一個轉彎處，峭壁在我們周圍形成了一個高聳的U形，我們坐在一塊大圓石上吃了個橙子。

我們并沒有說太多話，總感覺打破這份寧靜是件不禮貌的事。兩天前，我們從阿拉伯聯合酋長國的阿布扎比市出發，進行為期五天、全程長達500英里的自駕游，目的地是阿曼的首都馬斯喀特，只為尋找這樣的寧靜。除此之外，還能欣賞到阿曼那多種多樣、崎嶇陡峭的著名地形風貌，包括高聳入云的山脈、連綿不絕的沙漠和巖石峽谷中郁郁蔥蔥的綠洲。……