“When a stone remembers a person, they recall most deeply.” – Old Sean
Rise and Trudge
The following morning, Ahmed and I woke up a little early, staggering blearily around the hotel for the first hour or so after rising. By the time we got moving, the hotel’s breakfast had already closed, so we decided to try visiting town in the daylight in search of food.
The outer edge of town was distinctly impressive. Hail is filled with unique rock formations, bulging boulders with rounded edges rising directly from stark, flat sands. Desert scrub dots the land and even minor distances give views a hazy, mysterious quality.
Sadly, the city center of Hail isn’t a terribly beautiful area. The site is distinctly worn, with numerous buildings shuttered and plenty of wear-and-tear marring the concrete. Ahmed and I started our drive by checking out A’arif Fort, a narrow fortress structure atop a rising ridge of stone.
However, the fortress was closed when we arrived, as was most everything else. Hail, like the rest of Saudi Arabia, uses Friday as a weekend. And Saudi Arabians are a culture which wakes up fairly late on most weekends. With everything effectively shuttered and few other sights in the city center, Ahmed and I decided to gamble on a drive far to the north.
The main appeal of Hail doesn’t exist in the urban center. Instead, it comes from the massive range of esoteric outdoor sights and unique hiking opportunities that dot the surrounding region.
So northward we went.
Orange Under Storms
As Ahmed and I drove north, a thin pattering of rain continuously fell down, brushing through the landscape. The flatlands gradually gave way to another geographic feature. Pale orange sands rolled into impressively high dunes, anchored at points by spindly desert plants. Placid camels of white, black, grey, brown and tan kicked through the dunes in the distance as we continued to drive.
We had effectively entered Al Nufud Al Kabir, the vast desert heartland of northern Saudi Arabia. Dunes rose and fell like waves, warbling under more-solid stone mountains of black rock. Grey clouds stayed solemn overhead, the tones contrasting sharply with the unique flare of desert hues.
Finally, we drew near my chosen destination, the small town of Jubbah, Saudi Arabia.
Jubbah or Jubbat Ha’il is located to the north of Hail, along an ancient caravan route. Among other unique features, the town is notorious for its rugged desert-mountain scenery and immense number of petroglyphs or stone carvings. These rock artworks are famed in the region, but English information online about them is scarce, especially when hunting down their locations. On a gamble, Ahmed and I took the road on the outer portion of town, happily hunting.
Almighty Time Goes
On the left of the road, Ahmed and I spotted an area with a chain-link fence around it. Though it was closed, we opted to walk inside the fence’s gap to carefully walk through the area. The site was filled with the marking of modern humans, including small patches of litter and bright streaks of graffiti.
But our minor hunt paid off. There, on the interiors of several rocks, there stood a series of petroglyphs on darkened stone, lighter hues marking out primitive shapes. Thousands of years ago, humans had carved a figure of a camel alongside strange, elongated humanoids, giants towering over smaller figures with their hands splayed out.
I was told that these were carvings depicting ancient tales of giants, creatures of immense size which once roamed the land. They were prone to uncommon strength, capable of tearing open mountains and storing themselves inside deep stone.
It was my first petroglyph sighting of the region and the rock art was quietly awe-inspiring. I marveled at the endurance and style. What else can anyone do?
For the next half-hour, Ahmed and I continued to pick our way over stones. The rugged desert rocks were pleasantly grippy, making climbing and clambering an easy and enjoyable pastime. However, we wouldn’t find a new set of carved stones for a while.
A Brief of Rock Art
The Rock Art of Jubbah, also known as the Neolithic Petroglyph Heritage, exists as a truly unique and relatively unknown feature of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. The rock artworks harken back to a time period from over eight-thousand to ten-thousand years ago, when Jubbah was home to an ancient late and more diverse flora and fauna. The remaining town, which thrives to this day, is home to an oasis, the last remnant of that water source.
Ages ago, the region was home to the Thamud, an ancient tribal confederation located pre-Islamic Arabia. The people, who were actually several loosely oriented groups, occupied the northwestern Arabian peninsula. They remained a distinct culture from the late-eighth century BCE, when they are referenced in Assyrian sources, and the fifth century CE, when they served as Roman auxiliaries. The Thamud themselves are steeped in mystery, much of their distinctive traits lost to time and only recently being carefully reconstructed by modern archeologists.
Current knowledge comes from a variety of sources. For example, the Quran identifies the Thamud as an ancient polytheistic people who were destroyed by God for their sins of idolatry, disobedience and false worship. In these references, the Thamud ignored the prophet Salih. Against his advice, the tribal leaders cut the hamstring of a female camel that God had sent down for them, which caused their annihilation by thunderbolt, a storm, a shout, and an earthquake. Only the prophet Salih and his followers were spared.
Strictly speaking, Assyrian and Roman sources note that the Thamud made up the Thamudic Kingdom, the first-referenced kingdom of the region. But sources also hint that the Thamud name might have been adopted by other regional, unrelated tribes, following the Thamudic Kingdom’s extinction.
In the modern era, the area in which the Thamudic people once lived is filled with endless, hidden patches of carved rock and priceless artwork. Included in this artwork is written script, repeating symbols of lost letters etched into stones, making the artists a literate society.
Due to the region traditionally belonging to the Thamud, the rock carvings found here are considered Thamudic. But this is potentially inaccurate. The Thamudic carvings and Thamudic script has never been deeply researched to date. Thamudic Script is the catch-all name for some fifteen-thousand recorded inscriptions found across all of the Arabian Peninsula. These have not been fully recorded or identified as a cohesive grammatical or phonetic written language or languages. As such, the name Thamudic Script is a misnomer from the nineteenth century, when such rock carvings were discovered in areas associated with the Thamud.
To this day, more carvings are always being discovered. They are on open-faced stones, certainly. But they also exist in hidden caves, secret nooks and distant peaks. Undoubtedly, many thousands more are hidden somewhere under Saudi Arabia’s shifting sands.
Regardless of the scant information on the subject, the carvings are beyond fascinating. They are deeply carved into rock with clearly defined edges indicating masterful skills at stone-shaping. The sharp reliefs are in astonishingly good conditions.
State of Stones
Images include a daunting number of details into ancient society. There are images of humanoid giants, figures with splayed figures and upturned faces. Camels are the most common feature, trekking their way across rock walls. But other images included curve-horned oryxes, delicate ostriches, hunting dogs with tails, croached huntsmen with bows, baboons bounding, distinct hairstyles on men and women alike and a vast array of weaponry such as arrows, sticks, spears and bows.
One of the most famous carvings, with recreations found across town, shows a pair of horses bound to a pair of wheels, their backs facing one another in an abstract manner. The image is thought to be a chariot pulled by a duo of steeds.
Overall, the scenes on the stone depict a hunting culture. The animals sought, the weapons employed, the hunting dogs utilized and the complex society are the main themes of the site.
Strictly speaking, Jubbah isn’t alone in the discovery of regional rock artworks. Two regions are known to contain the best and oldest examples of Neolithic rock art in Saudi Arabia. Jubbah is the most famed, but there is also Shuwaymis, southwest of Ha’il and near the town of al-Hayit.
Unsurprisingly, I didn’t actually know any of this. After arriving, Jubbah required a crash course in learning about the region. Overall, the vast number of carvings Ahmed and I eventually sighted were more magical to me than anything else on our trip.
Generosity Embodied
As I may have mentioned in a previous post, Ahmed and I were road-tripping in his Lexus. While the car is undeniably sleek, comfortable and classy, it’s not the best for rugged desert terrain. While the Lexus held up surprisingly well on the sandy roads we took into the distance, we eventually had to stop and try our luck on foot.
Our walk was short-lived, however. Hail and the surrounding region has an almost-universal reputation for generosity and hospitality. Before we had gone even a few steps, two men in a Toyota pickup truck wheeled up next to us and offered to give us a tour.
We accepted and quickly clambered into the bed of the truck. A toss of sand by wheels later, we began rolling through the desert with surprising grace.
It’s worth noting that the desert folk of Saudi Arabia don’t ride in the back of pickups like Americans do. Americans crouch down, lean back or let their feet dangle off the back of a vehicle. The folks in this part of the world stay standing, hands on metal racks, shifting and tilting as their vehicle crests rocks and sand.
The gentlemen took us zooming through the desert landscape, much of which was covered with a soft layer of lime-green. In a few months, the region will finally be entering its rainy season, and the lush greenery found in photos will be embodied. However, for now, it was a gorgeous contrast to the dark, rugged mountains on every side.
We weren’t entirely alone in that lonely patch of the world. Families were camped in the far distance, privately enjoying time under a weakened sun. There were also strange, round plants on the ground, which looked a bit like baby watermelons. Though I couldn’t capture the name, I was told they were horrifically bitter and would cause a ferocious stomachache for anyone who tried to eat one.
Finally, our guides brought us to an elevated overlook, which captured the vast groves of Jubbah’s oasis-town. Nearby was my beloved prize; endless artworks and petroglyphs. Far more than my camera could ever hope to capture or catalog. It was effectively a sprawling, open-air museum, occasionally touched by modern Arabic script. But the ancient carvings themselves were kept in pristine condition.
We wandered around this area for an hour. I didn’t speak Arabic, so I remained a mute sidekick, jogging away often to look at more petroglyphs which caught my eye. We even passed a mosque-outline on the ground. I got to learn some interesting things about Islam from that ring of stones, a tiny pocket of rocks bulging outward where an Imam could speak.
Unlike Christianity, mosques don’t need to be specifically sanctified as places of worship. The world houses God’s spirit, so building the outline of a mosque in nature is a perfectly reasonable place for an Imam to lead a prayer.
It was a unique little trinket found on that rocky landscape. Jubbah had already become far more than I had ever expected.
So Do The Invites Roll
After giving us an expansive tour of their outlands, the pair of gentlemen we had been following invited us for coffee, tea and dates in the town proper of Jubbah.
Still enamored by Jubbah’s legendary hospitality, Ahmed and I accepted. We drove back into town, following the Toyota truck.
Jubbah is a tiny, worn and artfully maintained town. There are numerous intact old walls and more modern concrete structures. There’s a peace which is hard to quantify, seen in the slow, pensive strides of local working men. Women on the streets were rare, though I spotted a couple working their way through town.
We eventually arrived at a majlis. Majlis is the Arabic word for a sitting room, a piece of intangible heritage where Arabic citizens can be seated, converse, relax and enjoy one another’s hospitality. They’re a central aspect across the country and each region has a unique spin on the practice.
The vitality of the majlis cannot be overstated in Saudi Arabian society. It is the space where communities gather to solve problems and discuss solutions. During tragedies, it serves as a place to pay condolences to those who have lost loved ones. It is also the site of wedding receptions and communal gathering points for celebrations.
A typical majlis is usually a large, open room with plush carpets on the floor and rings of cushions against the wall. There is usually a fire-pit area used to prepare hot beverages. Oud burners, which are chalice-like pedestals, are offered to guests. The smoke from these burners is pressed into beards and clothes, thought to provide spiritual and therapeutic benefits for those who experience it.
The majlis is open to all people. Guests, foreigners, locals, distant cousins, neighbors, leaders, children and family members are all welcome. Community elders are especially prominent in the majlis, as their advice concerning nature, genealogy, history, ethics and current events is well-respected. Historically, judges and sheikhs could resolve disputes using the majlis as the site of decisions, though this process has shifted somewhat in the modern era.
The majlis is also known as the site where oral heritage can be preserved. Folk songs, folk stories and Nabati poetry (also known as “the people’s poetry” and “Bedouin poetry,” it is considered the richest form of popular literature) can all be recited here. Children are welcome in the majlis and it’s considered an important area for them to be informally educated on manners and community expectations.
Like much of Saudi Arabia, majlis are segregated by gender between men and women.
I arrived with Ahmed to the majlis of Jubbah (though there are many throughout the community). We were offered silver platters filled with sticky, candied dates and white ghee butter. Steaming, miniature cups of coffee and aggressively mint-tea were pressed into our hands as people chatted around us. I was occasionally drawn into conversations which Ahmed generously translated for me. Flies buzzed around with criminal persistence, but generally buzzed away with a couple of shoulder-shakes.
We spent a long time resting in the majlis until our guides recommended we attend a heritage museum on the other side of town. Delighted, Ahmed and I accepted.
Heritage Hunt
Surprisingly, Jubbah is home to a variety of museums. However, with this being said, many of them were closed on Friday. The one I was most interested in, which focused on the history of the petroglyphs, was closed.
Instead, Ahmed and I went to Al-Eadah for National Heritage & Tourism.
Museums are an oddly social experience here. It’s not enough for a person to simply walk inside and look around. Instead, visitors are seated in an awning area filled with cushions. More coffee and tea is pressed into hands, legendary Jubbah generosity revealing itself once more.
By now, I was jittery with caffeine. But it’s almost impossible to deny the momentum behind Saudi Arabian kindness. I sipped my coffee and then tea quietly, stomach growing slightly unsettled by the sheer tonnage of caffeine I was consuming.
Then, we were granted access into the museum. The number of heritage tools and structures were staggering.
Ahmed and I were shown rooms blanked in traditional carpets and cushions, undoubtedly social areas of the old community. The palm-frond roof was blacked with resin from ages of woodsmoke staining the ceiling. Other places revealed uniquely colored water wheels, wooden braces used to fortify camel saddles and traditionally-made doors with segmented wood and precision-hammered nails. Other rooms contained Sadu-patterned tapestries, grinding stones, woven baskets, traditional swords, hanging lanterns, billows, cooking implements, battered pots and more. Overhead storage rooms for spices rested in attic spaces.
We walked through the nearby orchards as well, filled with thriving date trees and unique other plants. There was also a heavily knotted, chop-limbed, three-hundred year-old tamarisk tree. This tree is the primary source of functional wood, used for making doors and other sturdy, wooden tools.
By far, the most interesting feature was the traditional well. This site had a strange wooden contraption with water wheels and creaking ropes. The well was managed by a pair of white camels who pulled the ropes, causing dense waterskins to slosh into a trough. The trough efficiently directed water into an irrigation system which supported the nearby date groves.
With that, our tour was finished. Ahmed and I blinked at one another as our guides invited us for yet another round of coffee.
Yield, Guest.
By now, I was fairly worn. Between the drive and unyielding hospitality of Jubbah, I begged off from further coffee. I quietly sat in the car while Ahmed explained to our de facto hosts I wasn’t feeling well.
Though they pleaded for us to stay for dinner and pressed strongly for our continued visitation, I mimed gestures of feeling unwell. It’s very hard to deter Jubbah hospitality, partially because that’s their major pastime. They don’t have time-sensitive jobs that demand a strict schedule or rapid road-trip vacations that require maximizing sightseeing and travels.
I begged off from more coffee. But even in this, Jubbah hospitality prevailed. Massive, demented lemons with lumpy skins and bags of oranges were pushed into our hands for the ride home.
Admittedly delighted, Ahmed and I drove away, braving the desert roads once more to return to Hail.
Tomorrow is our last day in Hail. Considering the massive amount of information written here, I plan on using a separate post to record our time in the city.
So following this drive, Ahmed and I will return to our hotel in Hail. We’ll wander forth in the evening to seek out light-touched mountains, winding streets, quiet eateries and more. And in the following morning, we’ll grasp as much adventure as we can before turning back home.
So until then,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written Friday December 22nd, 2023
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