Below sea level
After sleeping in the open in Mukawer, on a comfortable and beautiful starry night, we feel strong enough to start the second stage. The beginning doesn’t look complicated, just a descent that will take us down to the Dead Sea, before we climb back up at the end of the stage. But, as always, an unexpected guest would turn up to make the stage tougher.
As I was saying, the start of the stage ran along a road with nothing more interesting than a lovely view over the Dead Sea; through the faint haze we could even make out the Israeli shore of this peculiar sea, 18 kilometres from the Jordanian shore. Peculiar for its high salinity, which makes swimming in it easy, and for its location, 417 metres below sea level. I’d never ridden so low, and I’ll never beat that figure, since I was at the lowest point on Earth on dry land.
Obviously we had to have a swim, and I took the chance to discover two things. One, my English isn’t as good as I thought, and I missed the part where the guide told us don’t put your face in the water unless you want it to sting like mad (or something like that); and two, the Dead Sea is even more buoyant than I’d thought. Swimming in it is like trying to swim in jam. Very tricky, since you’re practically perched on the water, and above all great fun. I’d never sat down in water before; it’s a very strange experience.
After a good swim and a good lunch, the climb to Al Karak was about to begin, the town standing 1,000 metres above sea level. In other words, we had 1,400 metres of climbing ahead of us. The climb didn’t look too hard, as it was a long road with a gentle gradient, but we hadn’t reckoned with the temperature. 45 degrees at the start of the climb, reaching 50 degrees at times. Luckily the guides were going to look after us well and we weren’t going to run short of water. I drank as much as my body would take, and little by little I made my way to the top at Al Karak, crowned by the majestic ruins of its castle. Only Duncan, my roommate, and I made it to the top. The rest of the group had to get into the support vehicle which, luckily, was with us on this road stage.
After the climb we visited the castle. I’d love to tell you how beautiful it is, but sadly I hardly enjoyed the visit and didn’t take much in. Duncan went back to the hotel, while I stuck it out with a terrible headache caused by the intense heat and obvious dehydration. My head ached until the next day.
After dinner in a lovely restaurant next to the castle we went to buy supplies for the next stage. I left feeling uneasy, because the guide insisted that we could leave the bikes in the street, in front of the hotel, right in the middle of town. To my repeated questions of wouldn’t it be better to lock them away? or isn’t there a risk someone will steal them? he always answered with a simple you’re in Jordan. I admit that, despite my trust in the guide’s professionalism, I left feeling uneasy.
I love local markets; I try to stop and touch everything. It was night-time and we weren’t going to a traditional market, it was more like a small Mercadona, the Spanish supermarket chain. Even so, I loved the experience. While we were shopping, the owner of the supermarket offered us coffee, something that will never happen to me in any supermarket in Spain, and I took the chance to buy some wonderful (and cheap) Jordanian dates.
And back at the hotel, I found a lad riding around on my bike. I jumped out of the car, nervous, and said, trying to sound calm: hey, that’s my bike. The lad smiled and came over to tell me how much he liked it, the colour, the suspension… there really wasn’t an ounce of malice in him; he’d taken it because he liked it and wanted to try it. He carefully put it back with the others and carried on chatting with his friends. Another lesson learnt: I could leave my mistrust by the roadside, I was in Jordan.