4800km road trip across Oman, from Salalah, along the coast, into the Wahabi Sands desert, from there into the mountains and via Sur, following the coast again to Muscat. In summer, up to 50°C inland.
We took three and a half weeks for this journey. We travelled through the sand in a rented Mitsubishi Pajero to beautiful white kite beaches with turquoise blue water, drove through impressive wadis and took in the breathtaking mountain scenery.
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Jerusalem
Two Frenchmen accompany me on the journey through the mountains of the West Bank to Jerusalem. The first checkpoint waves us through at a massive concrete wall. Almost all roads leading into the centre are closed. Several Israeli policemen have been murdered in recent weeks. The reaction was a ban on entry to the Temple Mount for all Muslims under 50 and metal detectors for all those over 50.
This led to massive riots with several deaths and 400 injured. Even on the long search for a car park far outside, I notice masses of military and police, always in groups of five. On the way to my hostel in the centre of the old town on the Sabbath, I also pass a few hundred troops.
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Nazareth / Gabun / Galilee
My two weeks on the Sea of Galilee are coming to an end. The wind came back a little at the end, but remained far below expectations in terms of strength and frequency with 5 out of 14 days. There is hardly a place in the world where this would be less bad. There was always something to do, even those with a cultural aversion and those who don’t like hiking will be flattened by Galilee’s varied possibilities.
Nazareth is once again one of the big disappointing highlights. I don’t have to do anything! I visit the Church of the Nativity anyway and drown in tsunamis of selfie-taking pilgrims. Apart from a beautiful Arab bazaar in the narrow old town and new craft alleyways strictly separated by trade, there is nothing interesting to discover. (more…)
Dead Sea / Masada / Wadi David
In the early morning, the journey from the Sea of Galilee continues southwards along the initially green Jordan Valley. After 50 kilometres we cross the border into the West Bank. For a long time, the road runs directly along the border with Jordan. After two and a half hours we reach our first destination. The mountain fortress of Masada lies on a 400 metre high rocky plateau at the southern end of the Dead Sea.
Built around 100 BC, Masada initially served as a winter residence for the unpopular King Herod. However, Masada became a UNESCO World Heritage Site due to the great uprising against the Romans from 66 B.C. The last 1000 rebels of Judea fled to Masada after the destruction of Jerusalem. The Romans besieged the mountain fortress for several months in the year 73. (more…)
Yehudiya / Mount Arbel / Akko
The Sea of Galilee lies in the centre of Israel’s most historic region, the Galilee. Believers of all world religions walk in the footsteps of their superstars here. The ancient Jewish settlement of Magdalena is located just ten kilometres from Tiberias, directly on the shores of the lake. An archaeologist talks about the history next to the remains of the synagogue, where Jesus most likely preached before Mary Magdalene. The new luxury resort right next door is funding the excavations.
The shrines of the world’s religions are lined up at small intervals around the Sea of Galilee. Jesus fed the apostles on the site of St Peter’s Church. A UFO church was built over his home a few kilometres away in Capernaum. Buses unload crowds of pilgrims every minute. (more…)
Kitesurfing Israel: Lake Galilee
According to the locals, Windy.com offers the best forecasts for the Sea of Galilee. They check whether the wind shifts to the west off Haifa at 11am. If this is the case, the thermal system (Mediterranean humid and cooler, Golan Heights / Syria dry and hot) will be in motion and you can expect good winds of 20 to 30 knots at the only legal kite beach on the Sea of Galilee.
At temperatures above 40 degrees, the thermal wind often dies of heat death. I’ve been in Tiberias for a good week now, directly on the other side of the kite spot. The temperatures were actually between 38 and 44°C every day this July. The locals are also complaining about a rather modest season so far in terms of wind. In my first week here, the wind was only at least 15 to 18 knots on 4 out of 8 days, unfortunately never stronger. (more…)
20.000 cm under the sea
The coastal mountains between Haifa and the interior are behind me. On the last descent down to the Sea of Galilee, 209 metres below sea level, a violent gust of wind grabs my car and almost throws it off the road. YES! Right spot! The strongest winds in Israel prevail here. The trees are bending at almost 40 °C.
Tiberias is not too big, not too small and is located in the centre of an area whose cartographers would simply like to advise: please only mark where there is nothing super historic to discover! Much less work. But you do the work. Three world religions, places where Jesus worked, crusades, wars, 5000 years of history and nature. Variety would be a gross understatement. (more…)
Tel Aviv
Not even seven stamps from Arab states in my passport earn me the tourist attraction “private interview by the Israeli immigration authorities”. The brief questioning at passport control has to suffice. “Where did you come from? Berlin. What did you do there? Fighting tinnitus at daytime, enjoying it not getting worse at night in the clubs. Had a good time? Hell, yeah, beautiful people, magnificent places. Enjoy your stay!”
That’s it? Yep. Last train to Tel Aviv and off to the hostel. Reviews on the internet are incredibly important. Nobody knows or says who rates how, but everyone goes for gold. In my case, pigs have obviously rated a broken pigsty positively. The Overstay Hostel would be a great club in Berlin. Sleeping or even eating here is seriously less great. (more…)
Terminal: Muscat, Oman
Tooth Temple & Pack Up
I spend my last few days in Sri Lanka in the lively town of Kandy. The Temple of the Tooth houses a tooth of Buddha and is the largest shrine of the Sri Lankan Buddhists. Every day, thousands of people flock to the large temple complex directly on Kandy Lake in an alcohol-free October festival atmosphere.
In front of it, dozens of traders loudly offer flowers as sacrificial offerings. Their market cries sound like a spastic tuktuk stuttering through rush hour on speed. I walk past them almost every day – and fail every time I try not to grin. (more…)
Nuwara Eliya & the end of the world
From Kandy, I join two fun Swiss kiters for a trip to the Sri Lankan tea centre. We take the train early in the morning to Nuwara Eliya, just 40 kilometres away by air. The journey takes five hours and runs for around 125 kilometres, constantly ascending through endless tea plantations and jungle. The open doors are my panoramic viewpoint.
At 2000 metres above sea level, Nuwara Eliya is the highest town in Sri Lanka. It was founded in the 19th century by the heat-stricken British colonial rulers, and numerous buildings still bear witness to this today. Our accommodation is an enchanted little hostel in the style of Peter Pan: a bamboo courtyard and stream garnished with tree-trunk furniture, surrounded by small two-storey huts. King Fern Cottages. Fine. (more…)
Kandy
Only 3 hours minivanab Kalpitiya, 1 hour tuktuk roadkill through the Colombo rush hour, 4 hours waiting at the railway station, twice being blown off the kitebag by the sound pressure of departing trains and 3 hours panoramic train into the mountains away lies Kandy, the old royal city of Sri Lanka in the foothills of the mountains at an altitude of 500 metres.
Kandy is a completely different world, one that immediately enchants me, a colourful mixture of Shangri-La and small city, chaotic, loud and quiet. The evening traffic jam is interspersed with drums and mantras from the numerous monasteries. There’s a Burger King, and right next door is the Hotel Muslim, where I cleanse myself of two weeks of British food with roti, naan, curry, fresh fruit juices and candied fruit. (more…)
Of Mad Max & Mega Downwinders
My three weeks in Kalpitiya are coming to an end. It was a strange time. A lot happened, but little happened. Towards the end of the season, the wind bucked more and more violently, completely overpowered to the point of sinking every second was the standard. Landing was often difficult and many kites formed intimate relationships with the trees in SriLankaKite.
On the penultimate day, we took three boats 25 kilometres out into the upper lagoon of Puttalam to Magic Island. I do the whole trip with the chiefs as a downwinder. Thanks to the narrow lagoon here, the first six kilometres are pleasantly flat water. Every now and then the kite sinks, even frontline pulling doesn’t help. There are fleas on the seaweed in the 10cm deep water, and they bite like jellyfish. (more…)
To every order its costume!
I have been living in the climes of my new order, Srilankakite, for some time now. Our colourful habit refers to the difficult local wind conditions. My monk brothers are adorned with the inscription “Gusty ain’t for pussy”, my nun sisters proudly wear the slogan “Size does matter” on their chests. Both remind us daily how much nature is our master here.
Our daily routine is characterised by the same meditative sequence of our monastic tasks: eat, kite, work, eat, kite, eat, drink, sleep. We perform our duties with the utmost fervour, some even claim that some of the monks have fallen victim to religious madness when it comes to “drinking”. Joining the loud music around the drinking area, their call “Arrack-Attack!” announces the next round. (more…)
Safari anxiety
Everyone is afraid of something: the dentist, public toilets, spiders, the infinite vacuum in Nazi brains or coleslaw flatulence in a full lift to the 43rd floor. I’m afraid of three things: Cruises, permanent campers and safaris. Fortunately, I was able to tick off cruises and long-term campers in one go two years ago on a Philippine ferry. That leaves safaris.
The thing I’m afraid of on safaris is the people. Yes, I’ve read Tommy Jaud. But beyond that, there’s still plenty of room for socks in sandals, safari hats and fanny packs as beer belly holders. Elitist champagne breakfasts in air-conditioned safari tents at sunset. The disconnection with nature in a snow globe. And the burning question: “Karl-Heinz, why didn’t your mum ever buy you a guinea pig?”. (more…)
Kitesurfing Sri Lanka: Kalpitiya
The road from the airport leads 120 kilometres north to the Kalpitiya peninsula. The name is hard to remember, but it’s pure onomatopoeia. That’s exactly what you shout on the water, with a long “jaaa” at the end. The lagoon is about 400 metres by 2000 metres. The wind has been blowing non-stop at 25 knots for three days now.
After the Tamil Tigers gave up their civil war here in 2009, development began – very slowly. The houses of the Muslims living here are more than modest. There are just a few shelters. Even these are not ostentatious. In the evening, the village gathers around the fishermen on the beach. Ravens scream from the trees, followed by the muezzins in weird stereo from two minarets. Otherwise everything is quiet. (more…)
The Dubai Dress Code
For evening prayers, the entire Dubai airport is filled with muezzin singing from Bang&Olufsen loudspeakers. Fully veiled women and scantily clad New Arabs go to prayer. While the eternally yesterday at home consider a national referendum necessary for even the most modest mosque, here in the airport prayer room even non-believers are welcome – at least in the men’s area, but even barefoot.
I have seven hours to spare. After a cigarette at 8 o’clock in the evening, still a good 40°C, I am perfectly prepared in terms of perspiration for a classy dinner in the panorama restaurant of the Burj al Arab. If there is any “inappropriate” here, then I should fulfil it perfectly with my backpack and my 18-hour-old travel clothes. (more…)
Always almost windy @ Gökova
For Germans, Turkey is a crisis area in times of the NSU and the police and interior ministries once again showing a clear right-wing bias. At the airport, the German tour guide speaks to us in English. Only on the bus in front of a small group does she switch to quiet German.
We try the same without success. But even in tourist centres, Turks speak less English than Thais on the edge of the Golden Triangle. Me at the airport “Surfboard: where?”. Turk points to the baggage carousel. Of course it comes out somewhere else, “surfboard” is simply too multilingual. (more…)
The Author
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.