May 22, 2006: Stranded on the moon

It was a peaceful day in the desert, but hazier than I had ever seen it. The wind had stirred up the sand, giving the landscape of Wadi Rum and even more moonlike appearance. We traveled south on the Desert Highway passing the backside of the mountains that hide Petra with my friend, Naiym, who had lived in the area all of his life and seemed to know every nook and cranny.





After about 45 minutes of driving we took a sharp left and left the paved road and the modern world behind. The road was bumpy and after a few minutes Naiym stopped to take some of the air out of the tires, apparently this is a trick for being able to drive on sand. It works so well, in fact, that we were cruising smoothly without even using four wheel drive. We stopped here and there taking photos of land formations, climbing over rocks, and enjoying the scenery.




We stopped to have tea under a pomegranate tree and there it became apparent that we were not the first ones to come to this place.




Man, I just hate it when people don’t put away their goat carcasses.































The desert is amazing, the sand changes from yellow to deep red and the rocks tower hundreds of feet above us.

We reach an area in the desert that looks like a silver lake. It shimmers and now I understand why mirages in the desert were commonThe “lake,” which is actually an open area of desert that spans for miles, is comprised of sand so compacted and dry that it’s essentially cement. After bumping around in the dirt and slogging through sand dunes, Naiym takes the opportunity to race through this natural highway as we head back towards civilization.

We’re cruising at over 100kph/60mph over the hard pan when both Joe and I see a dark line on the horizon up ahead. Neither of us say anything. It’s approaching rapidly. By the time we all realize what it is we’re only a few feet away. To our horror we see that it’s a fissure in the desert floor and there’s no way we’re going to stop in time. Naiym futilely tries to break, dropping our speed only slightly. We hit the crack going about 50mph and I see the desert floor and hear glass shattering around me. I must have closed my eyes because when I open them the windshield of the truck is completely gone and the truck has flipped onto its side. I’m completely stunned. I look to my left and Naiym is right beside me trying not to fall on me. “Jump,” he says. When I don’t move, he says it more urgently, “JUMP!” Suddenly images of the truck exploding enter my head and I crawl out the windshield in a matter of seconds, spitting a chunk of glass out of my mouth on my way. I get out, still in a daze, and then remember that Joe is still in the back seat. Joe! Joe! I randomly think about the miscellaneous camping gear that was in the back of the truck, any number of things that could have injured him.

Joe emerges from the windshield in just about the same state of shock. We all ask each other if we’re okay. I seem to be the only one bleeding and Joe quickly slides back into the truck to get water to wash out my cuts, which I guess came from the dashboard and windshield. I’m more concerned with my camera gear at this point and start taking photos. Joe and I are both a little delirious from the accident and it takes us a few minutes to realize that we’re stuck in the desert, many miles from help.

Fortunately, Naiym is still getting cell service and going through his phonebook to see who is available to help. After a few tries he gets a hold of a friend who can come out with a vehicle that can get the truck back on four wheels. After several tries, the truck is freed from the desert, the steering wheel turned completely around so the writing on the wheel is now upside down. We drive back an hour and a half to Petra, mostly in silence, all the while Joe and I having the same visions of him being stabbed in the throat by the stray piece of windshield glass that’s still holding on or having a piece of rock kicked up by one of the semi-trucks on the highway embed itself into his forehead. We vow to each other that we will have many cocktails to celebrate our safety.

Me, after the accident: exhausted, bruised, scraped-up, and incredibly dusty. Joe’s at the pool. I take an hour long shower.