Wadis need to be more famous. Wadi Tiwi was something. But Wadi Shab is something else. We need to send that Czech guy a present for informing us about it. To think we almost missed this place!

When we arrived at the entrance, Hussein was busy leading a group into the wadi, so one of his colleagues ferried us across the river to the other side. There we began our hike into the beautiful wadi.

Wadi Shab

Caves and pools

The hike itself was pretty simple. That both sides were sheer cliffs that blocked the sun made our walk very comfortable. At times we had to walk under the cliffs in areas that were carved out by the river. At other times we had to wade across the river.

Towards the end of the wadi, the path actually stops. The only thing left is the river, and visitors must swim up the river to reach the reward at the end. Cindy gave it a try but didn’t feel comfortable in the water. I could have been a good husband and stayed with her. But that idea sucks. Instead, I ditched her and swam the remaining 20 minutes myself. And I’m so glad I did!

The 20 minute swim isn’t continuous. It’s more like swim, walk, swim walk. At the end, however, is a beautiful cave with a waterfall. In order to reach it, I had to fit my head into a small crack in the cliffs and sort of tread water through the opening until I reached the cave. Since there’s nowhere to sit or stand in the cave, I couldn’t take any photos. You’ll just have to take my word for it that it was amazing. It’s a translucent turquoise pool with a waterfall pouring into it. A rope dangled down one side of the waterfall so people could climb up and then dive into the pool beneath. Since I’m awesome, that’s what I did.

Hussein took these next three photos. Apparently he’s able to levitate in the air and take pictures before continuing his swim.

Leading up to the cave

Swimming through the crack

In the cave

When I swam out, I of course regaled Cindy with stories about how I beat up a shark in the cave. We thanked Hussein for his hospitality and left for Muscat to stay one more night with Farooq before catching our flight the next morning.

Except we needed gas.

There wasn’t an ATM within 100 km of us, but we were assured by everyone we met that gas stations accept credit cards. Everyone we met is a liar. The first gas station we found didn’t take credit cards. By the time we reached our second gas station, the dashboard gas indicator was blinking and the car was yelling at us, “FILL ME UP YOU FOOL.” But the second gas station also didn’t take credit cards.

I knew I couldn’t make it to a third gas station, so I grabbed a $50 USD bill from the car and started walking to a nearby coffee shop to see if someone would change some money for me. When the gas station attendant saw what I was trying to do, he offered to change money. Nice guy, I thought. I looked at the pump and saw it cost $3.90 riali. I told him I would give him $11. He shook his head. I offered $12. He said he wanted the $50. I said I would give him $12. He agreed. That’ll show him for trying to out-haggle a Chinese guy.

Full of gas, we zipped along at the unofficial Omani speed limit of 3483982392832 km/h and reached Muscat in about three minutes. We actually got there while Farooq was still at work, so we stopped at a trendy beachside cafe for a long overdue lunch (remember, no cash) and sunset shisha session.

Beach

Lunch

Cindy being cool

We hung out with Farooq and his friends that night, which began with bowling and ended with TGI Friday’s. At the restaurant, Sabby reminded us that it was Thanksgiving, making the TGI Friday’s particularly appropriate. Cindy and I remarked that we are very thankful for this opportunity we have and went to bed to wake up for our Malaysia flight next morning.