Monsoon Weekend, Part 3 of 3

The clouds were still hovering menacingly over us when I woke up at around 0700h. Dave was already starting to pack up because it looked like he really wasn't going to be able to catch any waves at that beach. I was just happy that God answered my prayers and we didn't wake up in the middle of the ocean, or soaked to the bones.

We still wanted to see Hasik and we were still hoping for good waves there, so with time to spare, we drove further along. The coast was just amazing. To our right, huge waves were crashing into the rocks and to our left, mountains were rising majestically, some shrouded in mist, some gloriously naked. Above us, the sun was gaining victory over the clouds and colouring the sea a pretty aquamarine. We didn't care much about finding waves anymore as it was turning out to be one of those "it's not the destination, it's the journey" experiences.

Ok, my shots don't really do justice to the views. 

When we finally reached the town, we were surprised to see a housing development being constructed. Big villas and everything. In practically the middle (or the end) of nowhere. I wouldn't blame people for wanting to live there though. Isolated as it is, it's beautiful. Quiet, except for the sound of the waves and the winds. Peaceful too, protected by mountains surrounding it. And Oman's impressive infrastructure covers all the basic needs. So I guess it does make sense to build houses there. We saw another petrol station similar to the one in Sadh, although this one has a view of the ocean, so points for Hasik.

After a brief survey of the waves and the beach, we decided to turn around and just head back to Salalah. Dave finally resigned to not getting any surfing action. Not long after though, as I was happily snapping away with the camera and chomping on my chocolate chip cookies, a gorgeous beach revealed itself (weird that we didn't notice it earlier), with waves that looked good enough to ride. We really didn't have much time because the Yaris had to be returned at 1200h, but whatever, the sun was out, the waves were good, and the charges for keeping the car longer weren't that expensive. Hurriedly, we slathered sunscreen on, Dave got into his wetsuit, took out one of the boards and happily paddled out. I got the waterproof camera and prepared to get some shots of him in his happy place. (It was still too dangerous for a novice like me to meet those waves, so I was content with getting wet and trigger-happy.) For a while there, I got distracted by what looked like a hermit crab village on the beach. I've never seen hermit crabs as big, with houses as big. Anyway, after a few minutes of waiting, I was about to give up on Dave ever getting to ride a wave, and I was heading back to the car to get more snacks when he suddenly appeared upright on his board and I had to run to capture the moment. I was too far though, and he looked like a speck in the middle of the vast ocean. Well, at least I got one shot.

Hurry, hurry!

Hermit Crab-ville!

I swear, that's him. I was just standing really far away.

Fifteen minutes of saltwater plus five minutes of posing for Facebook seemed good enough so after a quick change, we were on our way back to Salalah. Settled our account with the car rental office, freshened up (thank God for wet wipes) and decided that we've had enough of canned food and had a nice lunch at one of Crowne Plaza's restaurants. It was Ramadan, so the only proper food to be had was in the hotel. So much for roughing it hey.

With stomachs full, and saltwater dreams satisfied, we got ready for another 15 hours on the road. The adventure was nearly over, but we got what we came for- waves, cooler weather, awesomeness. The ride back wasn't bad as well- no screaming kids, no big toe poking my back. We even got to stretch out on our own aisles. At one stop though, while waiting for our shwarmas to be wrapped, we thought the bus almost left us. Turned out the driver only went to get petrol and air. After that, it was smooth riding all the way. I was half asleep while the officers stamped my passport at the border and the next thing I knew, Dubai's buildings were welcoming back to reality.