Oman

• The Pleasure Domes - Abu Dhabi
• The butler did it - Bahrain
• Dazzled by Dubai - Dubai
• Dubai’s must-do half dozen - Dubai
• The Day Chris tried to swap me for a camel - Egypt
• Ten great wonders - Egypt
• Keeping up with the Joneses - Jordan
• You CAN afford star treatment… - Middle East
• The hippy haunts of Hendrix - Morocco
• Souks you, sir! - Morocco
• Travelling in the sands of time - Oman
• OMAN! What a desert oasis - Oman
• Floating in a Red Sea bubble - Egypt
• Desert delights - Oman

THE ONLY LET-DOWN on this trip came from a mechanic deflating the tyres of our 4x4 to give the traction needed to bash the spectacular, shimmering dunes of the Ramlat Al Wahaybah – Wahiba sands – en route to our desert camp.

In 1970 the Sultanate of Oman, in the south-east quarter of the Arabian peninsula, had just six miles of asphalted roads when the Sandhurst educated Sultan Qaboos bin Said assumed power in a bloodless coup at the age of 30. The Sultan had already travelled the world and studied local government in England.

But the transformation he has achieved for a country about the size of England and Scotland combined is almost as astonishing as its natural landscape of soaring mountains, grand canyons, empty deserts, lush wadis and more than 1,300 miles of coastline with often totally deserted beaches.

Today, there are thousands of miles of top-class roads to explore a countryside honeycombed with ancient forts and archaeological treasures, and now visitors are encouraged to explore the landscape beyond the Oman roads – on dirt tracks through tortuous passes in the majestic Al Hajar mountains or off the tarmac into vast desert wastes.

So, for a small cash consideration, the employees of Salem and Salim Sons Of Sultan Bin Mohamed Alwa Haibi (as the sign above their auto repair shop in the tiny village of Al Wasil proudly proclaims) let down our tyres.

Then, turning right at a small mosque, we headed off road. Salah, our driver, suddenly morphed into ‘Top Gear’ mode and we realised why the car was fitted with an inside roll cage. As if the ride into the desert wasn’t exhilarating enough, we also seemed to be involved in a most unusual race.

Extraordinary mix of ancient and modern

Ahead were three flat-bed Toyotas, each transporting a strapped down dromedary nonchalantly riding backwards on the way to their desert pens. Camel racing is big in Oman, but usually not motorised. While these ships of the desert seemed to appreciate the lift, our driver was not going to be passed or surpassed by a one-humped camel going backwards.

After six miles, we were delighted when Desert Nights, one of the newest ‘campsites’ in Oman, appeared like a mirage on the horizon. We were welcomed in traditional style with cold towels and Khawa coffee and dates, and our luggage was whisked to the tent.

The 30 chalets have been modelled on Bedouin tents, but with queensize beds, air conditioning, en-suite bathrooms, a fridge, tea and coffee makers and cushions on the front porch – hardly the deprivations that faced Lawrence of Arabia .

From our desert camp base, we joined in the dune-bashing as 4x4s criss-crossed the windcarved valleys and peaks; some guests went sand-boarding down dunes as high as 200metres, others quad biking or camel riding across the ridges before being ferried to the highest dune to watch (cold drink in hand) the sun set on ripples of red, orange, yellow and golden sands.

Dinner, a five-star buffet, was taken at low tables outside the tented dining rooms, where guests gathered round a blazing fire beneath a starlit canopy. As the sounds of local musicians drifted across camp, there was whispered speculation about the identity of a member of royalty whose bodyguards had been able to drive their 4x4 right into the camp instead of leaving it outside the barrier like the rest of us.

Oman is the fabled home of Sinbad the Sailor and, considering its extraordinary mix of ancient and modern, the very presence of a mystery potentate seemed exotically appropriate, even if the retinue arrived not by camel caravan, but in a black BMW.

Vistors can haggle without hassle

The incense burners in each room – complete with locally produced frankincense and myrrh – added their own sensory contribution to a fairy-tale Arabian night.

Next morning, we were welcomed by a nearby Bedouin family to their desert home with Omani coffee and dates on a floor of magnificent carpets.

Then we returned to Al Wassil, and with air restored to the tyres we were ready for the rigours of the mountain roads.

All signs are in English and Arabic, so getting around is not difficult. But driving through the mountain passes near Jebel Shams, the 3,000m highest point, is not for the faint-hearted. Loose shale, sheer drops and herds of goats are often just around any of the hairpin turns. Salah was thankfully no longer in Stig mode.

The mountains are magnificent, huge jagged fingers of rock lying symmetrically behind each other. At the foot of Jebel Shams (it means ‘sun peak’) we went off road in another way: underground.

The Al-Hoota cave complex is part of a three-mile subterranean chasm discovered in the Eighties when a goat fell through a crack in the mountainside. Today, the caves boast Oman’s only train, taking visitors about 400metres from a visitor centre to the entrance of the show cave.

Brilliantly designed walkways and a clever lighting system allow visitors to explore the stalactitesand stalagmites that have built up over millions of years in the biggest cave and to see the edge of an underground lake where small, blind and almost transparent fish thrive in large shoals.

For those in search of bigger fish, Oman offers dolphin and whale watching tours and some of the best surf fishing in the world. Locally caught fish is a culinary speciality. Apart from outboard motors, little has changed for local fishermen delivering their catch to the market at Barka, where we watched traders haggle as their forefathers have for generations.

International dishes, Arabian, Indian and Chinese specialities abound both in the local cafes as well as in five-star hotels. We’d started with an early check-in at the stylish Grand Hyatt in the capital of Muscat, having flown eight hours overnight from Heathrow. With a four-hour time difference, we were still ready to make the most of the day, visiting the Sultan’s Al Alam Palace.

The Sultan Qaboos mosque is the second-largest in the Middle East (after Mecca) and is the breathtaking result of the combined architectural contributions of 26 nations.

To prepare us for the journey to the desert and mountains, we had spent one night at the Al Nahda resort, less than an hour from Muscat but inland from the fishing village of Barka. In 30 acres of gardens, it is a green oasis, with pools and water features. Guests can explore the complex by bike and have restorative massage and spa sessions.

After our exertions and excursions, we returned to the Zenlike haven of the world-class Chedi hotel in Muscat, with its private beach and adult-only infinity pool. We visited historic Nizwa, Oman’s second city, which like Muttrah on the edge of Muscat boasts gold and silver souks where – it is said by royal insistence – visitors can haggle without hassle.

Vision for the future

All premises have pictures of His Royal Highness, the Sultan, and there is much genuine affection for the 69-year-old they hold responsible for the renaissance of Oman, which has thrived without bling or skyscrapers and has a vision for the future that seems to protect and revere the past.

Even though the Sultanate plans to attract 12 million visitors a year by 2020, four times last year’s numbers, there will still be much to discover. I’ve never left anywhere with a stronger feeling of knowing there’s much more to see.

Back home at my computer, I only have to click on Desert Nights and, by the Genie of the Camp, I’m transported back to the sands of Arabia. That’s the joy of Oman – ancient and modern.