“I know in the wretched bottom of my heart that my soul isn’t in the deserts. It flings itself to greener realms at every chance.” – Old Sean
Sunsighter
On Friday, January 19th, 2024, I took a long distance road trip to the far-flung ancient settlement of Najran in southern Saudi Arabia.
The following day, I woke up early intending to head in a completely different direction. I wasn’t looking for more deserts, but instead the legendary lush mountain ranges to the west of Abha.
I woke up dark and early after a brief night of exploring Abha the previous evening. Moving with surprising energy, I showered using a three liter water bucket I had purchased the previous night. My hotel’s shower and tap water still gave off a concerning “ramen-broth” scent and I refused to risk contact with it.
Hair damp and eyes squinted, I checked out from my hotel and started to drive. It was 6:10 AM and I wanted to see the sun rise from the Eastern Point View overlooking the city. So I drove through the grayish dawn and snaked up the side of a mountain.
But it would be a disappointing view. Abha is one of the few places I’ve found in Saudi Arabia where clouds exist in strong droves. I could see nothing but a soupy swirl of slat gray and a ground caked in discarded cigarette butts.
With my morning goal disappointingly achieved, I pressed down the gas and carried on.
The Foglone
I haven’t driven in a long while, but fortunately it’s a habit that doesn’t require much recalibration. I rolled through lonely mountain roads, enjoying the tilt of the vehicle on turns.
Humorously, practically every curve in the region is marked by plenty of turn arrows and bright red signs in Arabic and English.
They all say “Warning, Sharp Turns Ahead. Drive with Caution.”
And true, there are some sharp turns. But most are just gentle arcs, giving an interesting, totally translated pseudo-motto to the mountains.
However, these signs were only briefly sighted. For the duration of my drive, I was encased in a powerful, soupy fog. Only the taillights in front of me were visible and, if not for the brightly painted lines, I’m certain I would have made a horrendous cliffside turn at some point.
Alas, fate liked me on that drive and I continued slowly, but largely unhindered. Scenery was a bit lacking though.
A Parade on Switchbacks
Eventually, I arrived at a harrowing series of downward switchbacks leading into the lower valleys of the range. As I drove, geysers of clouds continuously rose. The walls of the land became greener and greener, a touch of humidity brushing my collar.
I felt myself relax degree by degree. In many ways, Saudi Arabia is a fantastic country. But the nation isn’t renowned for its lush forests and verdant fields. I truly believe there’s something deep in my psyche which is always seeking that out. So the newfound color scheme soothed me.
Interestingly, the highland central valley of the Sarawat Mountains takes a long time to descend. Even though this is an elevated mountain range, it’s technically a basin compared to the plateaus nearby, which means water and clouds flow into them, hence the greenery.
Fortunately, I wasn’t alone on my drive any longer. In fact, I had turned from a solo traveler into a one man parade.
Dozens of baboons perched on guardrails, placidly watching me tilt downhill. Wonderfully, they didn’t try to draw near or anything, merely watched me with varying levels of interest.
Eventually, I reached a mountainside mosque which allowed me to park for some photos. While it was a lovely mosque with commanding views of the valley below, my gaze was drawn to the loops of barbed wire ringing the roof. And the heavily shuttered metal box with only narrow slats cut in the side.
It took me a moment to realize both were for the baboons. It wouldn’t do to have mountainous primates dancing on houses of worship. And the metal box certainly contained a dumpster that the apes were longing to pillage.
Vistas and Views
As I drove into the valley, I came across the first villages of the area. While this includes Al Ous, Al Shabain and Al Batilah, the major tourism points are in the historic community of Rijal Almaa. So anyone driving this direction uses Rijal Almaa as a catch-all term for the valley. .
The thing that surprised me first were the baboons. Their numbers swelled impressively and they were practically everywhere in the community. Under bridges, trotting across roads, carrying baby baboons, lounging under bridges and picking through trash with friendly crows, the troops were omnipresent. Dogs and cats, while in existence, were far rarer as a form of urban life.
I even saw a veritable horde of baboons hooting and leaping after a garbage truck, as though an ice cream truck had just announced a free giveaway. The trash collectors looked on with bemused resignation, treating the baboons like an inevitable combination of talented jesters and Satan’s foremost minions.
Another thing that struck me during the drive, aside from the gorgeous mountains, were the numerous buildings painted with pastel shades. As a rule, Saudi Arabia trends away from brightly painted buildings. But I realized that between the mountain shadows, misty air and frequent clouds, this valley receives far less intense sunlight than the rest of the kingdom. Dust is also a diminished factor. Hence, paint lasts much longer and is much cheaper to maintain.
The splashes of color were appreciated.
I drove through additional tunnels and overpasses, rubbernecking frequently. It was hard to believe such an environment existed in the kingdom.
I continuously spotted rickety stone forts on mountain crests, which amused me to no end. In the mountainous parts of the US, people often plant seemingly random crosses of Christ on mountain ridges. They’re not overly visible or anything, just a common feature of the nation. Naturally, Saudi Arabia would never have any cross decorations. But the contrast tickled me.
Pebble Palaces
I finally arrived at my first desired destination. The Rijal Almaa Heritage Museum is one of the most iconic culture and tourism sites in all of Saudi Arabia. Its design is utterly unique to the region and it is clearly beloved by locals, who have lovingly restored and maintained it.
Rijal Almaa, translating to “The Brightest Men,” is a prominent location in Saudi Arabian history. The valley served as a major trade nexus through the mountains and there are many recorded instances of valiant battles. The most frequently referenced are the battles against Ottoman forces attempting to regain overt control of the region. It’s worth noting that the people of Rijal Almaa and the surrounding villages are considered a distinct cultural heritage group of the Asir (Aseer) Province. The site has a recorded history of about 900 years.
Rijal Almaa is home to a unique architectural style called Asiri Architecture, but since this is a blanket terminology, Layered-Stone Asiri Architecture is more accurate. The walls of the Rijal Almaa Heritage Museum are absolutely fascinating to look at. Flat rocks are carefully embedded in an interior of clay mortar for stabilization. Frames for windows and doors are generally made from treated wood. But the exterior spaces of the building are reinforced with smaller flat stones, pressed into the cracks and interior clay. The result is a riveting series of stone walls with mesmerizing patterns and occasional designs of white to highlight the style. Even the ruins still undergoing restoration, which are often topped by adventurous prickly-pear cacti, show a unique mastery of style.
If one looks at the frames, where the stones go inwards, there is a very slight downward tilt from the anchor point, causing any moisture that gets inside to drip back outwards.
The entire site is supremely cool with entry only costing 20 Saudi Arabian Riyals. There are a few artifacts inside, but most of the effort has gone into architectural restoration. The information within is quite compelling.
Note that visitors should be physically capable. The style of buildings and mountain backing means there are a lot of stairs to contend with.
After my time at the museum, I spent a little time in the surrounding village. There are parks, an endless number of baboons, a series of hilltop towers and some nice coffee places. The entire area is quite quaint, but the museum site is so impressive, it diminishes the appeal of the surrounding area.
After dodging a couple more baboons, I hopped back in my car, ready to drive onwards and upwards.
Honey Hopes
Sometimes, when traveling, the point is to take a gamble. There are instances where I find information online that let me know a place is good. Sometimes I hear about it from a local.
And sometimes there’s just an obscure map marker on Google Maps. In this case, that’s what brought me to Bees Tower Honey Refinery.
This is now my favorite place in the Middle East. Full stop.
It was a bit tricky to find this area. I had to exit a tunnel and find a dirt road trundling up a mountainside. But I made do, rocking my way over gravel and dust while taking in the view.
When I arrived, I assumed the site was closed. There were no cars and numerous no-entry, no-parking signs blaring at the front entrance. But I found a parking lot and tried entering on foot.
The Honey Refinery makes an impressive first impression. There’s a giant wooden windmill atop a hill of white stone, a path covered in arches of flowers and two oddly-placed vehicles set up for decoration. A white building with fake flowers spilling out of windows dominates the left.
My two favorite features, however, are the old school items. There’s a huge, wooden water wheel solely for decoration. The wheel is decorated with row after row of Arabic calligraphy, making it seem like something magical, nearly detached from the world.
On the center platform, there’s a huge wooden carriage with old-fashioned shutter doors. In bright yellow letters, the wagon introduces itself as the Honey Carriage. The inside is warm wood and soft lighting.
I continued to meander around the site, taking endless photos and peering at colorful bee hives. I was fairly certain everything was closed until I saw a door ajar.
Honey Roost
I poked my head within to find someone busy at work and eagerly welcoming me inside. He introduced me to the three cats milling around the outdoor seating area and led me up a white stairwell filled with chandeliers to the honey roost.
That’s not the actual name, I simply can’t think of a better way to describe it.
The upstairs interior building was everything I ever wanted in a home. Flagstone floors, cluttered, wooden work spaces, long walkways filled with esoteric honey-harvesting supplies, a storage room filled with shelves upon shelves of labeled honey, witty posters on walls, traditional-styled lanterns hanging on ceilings, mountain-view reading nooks, a seated lounging area, artfully removed flatscreen television, a gaming table, a coffee bar, a herbal workstation and mysterious wooden doors leading through stone walls. Best of all were the dozens of hollowed logs where entire hives of bees nestled within, getting ready for another day’s work.
I was allowed to explore at my own pace, taking nearly an hour to walk through the four rooms. Eventually, I made it to the sampling station. This shelf had a long row of honey in jars with wooden sample-sticks. Each jar of honey was lit from below, giving them all distinct hues in the morning light.
Best of all were the in-depth fact cards. There was information on what plant made the honey, the medicinal benefits prescribed to each one, the rarity of that honey by region, the research regarding each sample and, of course, additional fun facts.
I lost another half-hour slowly working my way down the line, carefully sampling each pot. The hollowed-logs full of bees were pressed against the glass facing outside, allowing me to see the very workers who supplied my samples.
In the end, I bought two jars, each half a liter for a grand total of 125 Riyals ($33 USD)
I can’t adequately express how centered that shop made me feel. I adored every moment within and I wish I’d brought another three jars. My mood for the rest of the day was dramatically enhanced. Dipping a stray finger into Anisum or Marjurm Honey helped with that too.
Skysample
I wasn’t quite done with my regional adventures yet. After my hours were finished at the Refinery, I took a chance on another longshot map-marker.
This proved to be an excellent plan.
I chugged my way up mountain roads, stopping frequently for photos or just…sitting. The land rolled beneath me and the road swayed between short, mountainous trees. Entire cliffs were rendered green and a broken combination of light and bluish clouds churned above. Sunlight lanced through, pointing out small buildings below. Traditional ruins frequently dotted distant hilltops.
Sadly, my poor care was barely up to the challenge. Even planting my gas pedal all the way to the floor resulted only in some engine whining and a pitfully minor acceleration.
Ah, well, that’s why I pray for rental cars when I use them.
Eventually, I reached my desired destination after rolling through a stark series of dark cliffs. There was a site called (قلعة اثرية) which literally translates to “An Ancient Castle.” The structure, which stands with interlocking stones atop a rounded cliff, grants divine views below.
As I explored the ruins, I spent some time brushing plants and scurrying after birds. There were some bushes nearby which burst with fluttering butterflies as I drew near, white wings batting the air before tucking themselves within leaves.
The most surprising find of all for me was a strange, long quill. If I had been in the US, I would’ve immediately recognized it as a porcupine quill. I even sited a hole with some sort of scuffling creature at the back portion of the mountain. But without a clear view and unaware if porcupines even lived in Saudi Arabia, I decided to back away.
It was only after my friend Ahmed’s help and a Google Search later that I discovered that it was indeed a mountaintop porcupine. Specifically, if the white and black patterns of the quill are anything to judge by, it was an Indian Crested Porcupine (Hystrix indica). It’s supposedly an endangered species within the region.
Coffee Catch
After my mountain hikes and drives, I decided to roll back into town, stopping briefly for some coffee and a bathroom break.
With all of this, I decided it was time for me to begin returning to Abha. It was around 11 AM by now and I wanted to be back in the city with plenty of time to spare since I had a 5 PM flight on the same day.
As such, I got my iced coffee, gazed around one last time and began the long drive back.
Baboon Folly
Naturally, it was a lot slower going back up the mountain switchbacks than it had been coming down. Despite this, I made fair progress, slowly snaking my way back to the mountaintops.
My progress was occasionally slowed whenever a cloud rushed up the mountainside. The cloud cover was thick and there was a lot more traffic on the road by now, forcing me to slow down.
Though I kept my car’s pedal all the way down and wrangled the wheel heroically, progress was slow.
Eventually, I decided to stop trying to rush things. I took more stops, pausing for plenty of photos.
During one of these stops, I didn’t bother turning off the car. I simply left the door open and took the two steps I needed to take my cliffside photo. A dramatic spawn of clouds and mountain hues whirled below.
I was captivated.
But what I should have been was attentive. Because while I was looking at splendor, there was mischief behind me.
An ambitious baboon, a young female, saw her chance. I had some apples sitting on the passenger seat and as I turned, I saw her sprinting for my car.
I stalled for a moment, not entirely sure what I was seeing. But then I saw the baboon in the cab and knew that I had a solid chance of getting a fairly hefty fine. I had sprung for an insurance package on my rental, but I doubted ape damage was covered in any meaningful way.
Or maybe it was. Who knows what headaches insurance companies in Saudi Arabia deal with?
Luckily, the question was rendered moot. The baboon never even entered the car. She simply grabbed the roof, looped in for a fraction of a second, snagged an apple and sprinted away hooting.
I had half a moment for a sigh of relief before I saw a full troop of bright-eyed, bright-butted baboons looping towards me.
Finally, my wits returned. I dove into the driver’s seat, shut the door and kicked up some gravel.
Going bankrupt over a baboon attack sounds too ridiculous to ever financially recover from.
Quickdraw Boomerang
On that note, I’m now driving back to Abha. I’ve stopped for a coffee while writing this and need some time to charge my phone for navigation. This means that I’ve been from Abha to Najran and back. And now Abha to Rijal Almaa and back. And soon, it’ll be Abha back to Riyadh.
My last post regarding this trip will exclusively cover Abha. My first uncomfy night in a subpar hotel, my city-height night walks and whatever awaits me when I drive back today, preceding my flight.
So until then,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written January 20th, 2024
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Ten years ago, I abandoned my military surplus store backpack for a Farpoint 40 Osprey Travel Pack. I’ve never replaced my bag since. Two years ago, I bought two more Osprey Backpacks for my younger siblings on their first tour outside the country. I have nothing but praise for Osprey Products.
