Khasab, Kumzar and Hormuz Hospitality

For me, every new country has an Expat bucket list. These are the things that you "must" do before leaving the country.  The easiest and number one on my list for Dubai was a sea kayak trip around the northern tip of the Musandam Penisula. The Peninsula is an Omani exclave seperated from the rest of Oman by the UAE and which forms the southern shore of the Straits of Hormuz.

A larger type of Omani fishing boat. Still a very traditional design.

Prior to 1971, the UK administered the Trucial States or Trucial Oman.  The was a loose connection of sheikdoms with little formal government and included Bahrain and Qatar.  The British wanted to withdraw from the region but there was much debate between the sheikhs about control of regions. In the end, Bahrain and Qatar withdrew from the process and established their own states and in each of the remaining regions the locals were asked to identify with a sheikh as a mechanism for determining control. Musandam identified with the Sultan of Oman so when the UAE was established the Peninsula became part of Oman.


The Peninsula forms the boundary between the Eurasian and Arabian plates, part of the same fault line that runs through the earthquake prone mountains of Iran. The landscape of the Peninsula is formed by the mountains of the Arabian plate being forced down by the Eurasian plate. This has created deep water desert fjords as the mountains are forced under the water so that only the peaks are visible.

Running north from Khasab and into the channel between Jazir at Umm al Ghanam

My plan was to launch from Khasab, the administrative centre of Musandam and paddle around the Peninsula to pull out at the only road access on the east coast at Khor Habalyn. This turned out to be a distance of about 93 km which I planned to complete in two days. There were two interesting channels that required a little thought due to strong tidal flows that resulting standing waves and tidal over falls.  According to two trip reports I had read, both authors had found themselves in difficulty at one particular point, Fakk al Asad. As a result, I planned my journey on hitting these two passages at slack water, that is at high or low tide.

The north-eastern most point at Ras Shuraytah  . The Kumzari driving the boat offered to give me a lift as he was concerned about sharks and my shoulders getting weary.

As it turned out, getting to Oman proved to be the biggest challenge.  We were fortunate enough to have a friend interested in joining us for a nights camping.  This meant that I could drive up with Kate and Ada, camp the night and set off early in the morning.  Kate could then wake up late, drive the car to the pull out point on the opposite coast and our friend could pick her up and they would then return to Dubai, leaving me the car.  All easy in theory.

The village of Kumzar

The drive to the border between the UAE and Oman was easy.  Unfortunately, the border crossing was bedlam.  It was a significant weekend because it was the UAE National Day long weekend and this had two consequences.  The first was that there were a larger than usual number of people crossing the border.  The second we discovered was that the primary border crossing with Oman at Hatta was restricted due to security concerns.  It seemed that people residing in the UAE on tourist visas decided to do their "visa run" to the Musandam border instead. The combination of these two factors had overwhelmed the staff at the Border.

Fishing boats ready to go.

On arrival to exit the UAE, it was so busy that we decided to leave and have some lunch. We returned about 90 minutes later and the queues had subsided and we were able to be processed in about 20 minutes. We thought that we were through.  Little did we know that there was a three hour wait on the Omani side where we stood in a barely moving queue. Not an auspicious start to the trip.

The Old Men and the Sea

It was sunset when we passed through the border and by the time we reached Khasab we were making camp at the beach just to the west of Khasab,  in the dark with about 100 other campers.  In addition to the campers there were Khasabi locals driving laps of the main street and using the beach as a turn around and an amusement park of the type you would see at rural agricultural shows in Australia.





























We quickly made camp and got an improvised BBQ going as I had forgotten to load the gas BBQ (idiot). Everyone was reasonably relaxed and ready for bed when we encountered the first of many instances of local hospitality. A fellow Omani camper joined us offering fresh fish kebabs from his BBQ. The fish was spicy but beautiful and out kids loved them both giving him a hearty "shukran" or thank you in Arabic.

A temporary tuna lookout.

I set off the next morning at running through the channel between Jazir at Umm al Ghanam island which has an Omani naval base and to the tip of the Peninsula at Ras Shuraytah which according to the Admiralty Charts can have tidal overfalls. My timing was perfect.  I paddled with the current through the channel, hitting speeds of up to 11 kmph. I reached the tip of the peninsula still being pushed along by a diminished tidal flow. I rounded to the Peninsula and headed to a beach on a peninsula north east of Kumzar.




















The chief cook splitting firewood. His shark, rice
and rocket was worthy of a Michellin star



I avoided Kumzar as I had read that they had stopped tourist boats arriving at the remote village. Kumzar is only accessible by boat and it proximity on the narrowest point of the Straits of Hormuz has meant that it has been at the crossroads of civilizations for hundreds of years.  Portuguese, Persians, Indians and the British have all had their influence.  The locals speak their own language, Kumzari, which has Persian roots and they make a living fishing for tuna and sardines. It is amazing to think that a few hours drive and a 30 minute boat ride from Dubai, one of the fastest growing and cosmopolitan cities in the world, there is and isolated village that speak their own language and lead very traditional lives.



















After about 3 hours 40 minutes and 32 km in the kayak I pulled into the beach which contained a fishing shack and some fishing boats.  There was lots of boat traffic enroute. Local boats going to Kumzar, Irainian smugglers in what looked like tricked up ski boats and the Police who pulled me over to check my passport and visa.  After landing, I was soon met by some Kumzari fishermen, led by Mohammed.  I had deliberately landed at the western most point of the beach away from their fishing shack to avoid intruding.  Mohammed wandered into the water and met me, indicating that this part of the beach was rocky and wanting to walk my kayak to the hut.  I followed along and the fisherman all lent a hand to carry my boat out of the water.

A Lion Fish in the reef a few metres off-shore

There was much indication that I should go and wash my hands and at this point one of the younger fishermen, not in a dishdash and who spoke a little English, told me it was lunch.  I was ushered into the fishing hut where there were three round woven mats each with a central metal plate containing rice, rocket, white radish, dates and freshly roasted shark fillets. All the fishermen were crouched around the mats as I tried to survey the eating etiquette. After a few hours in the boat, my body was not to keen on the kneeling position as I used my right (correct) hand to tear off fish and then scoop up some rice and rocket. The food was superb, particularly after the morning's exertions.

More sea life

After lunch we sat outside. I was offered a 7up and a smoke on the sheesha pipe as they relaxed under the balcony.  My kayak was inspected and deemed seaworthy as I chatted to the young fisherman who spoke English.  He asked if I spoke any other language as English was not his strong suite and I only knew three words in Arabic (which I used frequently).  He suggested Iranian (Farsi), Hindi or French as better options for him.  I was feeling inadequate at this point and, after some conversation in Hinglish, I wandered to the western end of the bay with my snorkeling gear to check out the reef.

The afternoon relax and smoke.  Before long the playing cards made an appearance.

Our main lookout and his stone hut, sitting high above
the headland

The fishermen travel out from the Kumzar to fish each day. They position look outs on the headlands to spot the schooling tuna and sardines as the fish sweep through the bays.  Once sighted, they then quickly deployed their nets, one end tethered to the shore.  It wasn't long before the call went out from the lookout.  Tuna had been sighted and they all raced out to intercept.

Fakk al Asad, looking very friendly but its potential was clear
This was the only point where it was worthwhile putting up
the sail.

My plan was to hit the next channel at high tide at around 4 pm so I needed to leave the beach at 3pm. The fishermen were out when I loaded my boat and set off I paddled by them calling out "shukran".  They waved enthusiastically and I continued on.

At this point I still though I could make it before dark

The channel at Fakk al Asad, or Dead Mans Gap, was benign but the potential for chaos in the wrong conditions was obvious.  There was not a big tidal range due to the phase of the moon. I was close to high tide and there was no wind but I was still pushed through the channel at 6kmph . I then reached a decision point, paddle to my planned camp about 4km away or, as I was feeling good, kick onto the next headland about 15 km away.  I was gambling on being able to reach the headland before last light as I hadn't planned a campsite at this location and, as with most of the coast, the cliffs dropped straight into the water.

The Mosque at Shabbus.

I had overestimated my ability to race the sun and I arrived at the headland after dark. With my head torch on, I scouted around the coast looking for a viable site but it was an exercise in futility.  I decided to cut my losses and head for Ghubbat ash Shabbus and the fishing villiage of Shaboos which was about 10km further on.





















There was no moon, just starlight.  The water was flat and the phosphorescence in the water was amazing.  My kayak left a bright green wake and each paddle stoke was as if the blade of the paddle was dipped into green fluorescent paint with glowing droplets flying into the water. Where the phosphoressence was brightest was near schooling fish. The fish sped off when surprised by the kayak leaving bright green streaks in the water like tracer bullets. On several occasions, I was hit by fish that leaped out of the water when startled by the kayak.

The men of the family. The ladies were not shy and they were keen to have their photo taken with me but they wouldn't let me have a photo with them. I think the three fingers is a famous UAE victory salute.

The time passed quickly and after 4 hours 40 min in the kayak and 36 km I reach Shabbus. I paddled slowly to shore but was soon spotted by a reception committee.  The head man was Ali and his daughter Maria, who spoke English, along with the rest of the extended family.  My plan of camping at the far end of the beach was not an option.  As they carried the kayak ashore, I was told that I would be staying in their house.  I was ushered inside and I had a quick rinse in the shower to get off the salt water.  They offered me dinner but I insisted that I had food and it would be easier if I cooked myself.  They offered me the use of their gas stove so I didn't need my MSR and I quickly cooked dinner. About 15 of the family watched me eat my pasta and tuna and we had a slow conversation all interpreted by Maria.  Many photos were taken with all the extended family and I was made to feel very welcome.

I left my camera unattended and this
photograph was the result. Kids are the same everywhere

The next morning I was given the extended tour of the village before more photographs were taken. The final 23km to the pull out point was uneventful and I arrived three and a half hours later and loaded the kayak on the the car for and easy drive back to Dubai, only pausing for 5 minute to go through border control.

My farewell at Shaboos

The trip was an intense experience, not in the sense that it was arduous, dangerous or difficult but rather from a perspective of engagement with local people.  It was amazing combination of a traditional people leading traditional lives but in relatively close proximity to cosmopolitan and in a many ways a non-traditional society represented by Dubai.  Given this, you would expect people in such circumstances to be suspicious and closed but nothing could be further from the truth.  The locals of Musandam were open, curious and welcoming.  It was a tremendous experience.

Ali and friend. He was a happy smiley guy except when the camera came out, although he loved photos!.

During our discussions in Shaboos, Maria told me that her older brother  had received an Omani scholarship to study in Australia and had refused.  When I questioned Maria on why the offer was refused, he smiled and said "the fish". Initially I couldn't understand why you would pass up such an opportunity. On my drive home, I wondered how openly he would be received in Australia, particularly given the current climate.  Would Australians, many of whom can't differentiate between a shikh, a sufi and a salafist, be as warm and as welcoming to him as the people of Musandam were to me? I thought twice and realised that he was probably better fishing.

The pull out point.