Explorer Journal
I adore exploring Saudi Arabia and have been traveling from the top to the bottom of this vast country for several years. I love nothing more than searching for a unique rock drawing, visiting an ancient building or following the trail of one of the famous explorers, T.E. Lawrence, St John Philby or my current fascination Charles Doughty.
Why Doughty you might ask? Well he spent time traveling around northern Arabia almost 150 years ago and wrote a book about it. Travels In Arabia Deserta was acclaimed as a unique record of Arabia at that time.
Few others have gone into such detail and I’m going to use his accounts to try and transport myself back in time.
Why Doughty you might ask? Well he spent time traveling around northern Arabia almost 150 years ago and wrote a book about it. Travels In Arabia Deserta was acclaimed as a unique record of Arabia at that time.
Few others have gone into such detail and I’m going to use his accounts to try and transport myself back in time.
Whilst the book has been described as a masterpiece of travel writing by some, Doughty as a man, is possibly less well-regarded. There is evidence that he rubbed people up the wrong way, but did produce a book that gives precious insight into life at the time.
As a modern explorer I’m really intrigued to learn more about him, his travels and his descriptions. Are they true to the precious Arabia that I know today? Can I find the exact places he talks of and will I be able to dip my hand in the same spring water that refreshed him almost 150 years ago?
An Englishman born in the Victorian era to a family of churchmen, Doughty had a very traditional and strict upbringing. The death of his parents and rejection from the Navy on grounds of ill health meant he seemingly had little purpose in life. He didn’t settle, his early years were spent studying different subjects, going from Cambridge to Norway, and then to Holland.
From there he roamed nomadic-like around Europe for 4 years, before, for no discernible reason and with little money in his pocket, he took a boat to Palestine. On his way to Petra he heard about modern day Hegra, which importantly was at that time, ‘not known to Europeans’, describing it as having ‘other Petra-like sculptured cliff monuments, bearing many inscriptions’.
Here was his chance to be the first to document them. He did indeed visit what is now the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Hegra, a year later, producing one of the first descriptions of its magnificent Nabataean tombs. He didn’t stop there though and travelled onto many other towns in Northern Arabia.
As a modern explorer I’m really intrigued to learn more about him, his travels and his descriptions. Are they true to the precious Arabia that I know today? Can I find the exact places he talks of and will I be able to dip my hand in the same spring water that refreshed him almost 150 years ago?
An Englishman born in the Victorian era to a family of churchmen, Doughty had a very traditional and strict upbringing. The death of his parents and rejection from the Navy on grounds of ill health meant he seemingly had little purpose in life. He didn’t settle, his early years were spent studying different subjects, going from Cambridge to Norway, and then to Holland.
From there he roamed nomadic-like around Europe for 4 years, before, for no discernible reason and with little money in his pocket, he took a boat to Palestine. On his way to Petra he heard about modern day Hegra, which importantly was at that time, ‘not known to Europeans’, describing it as having ‘other Petra-like sculptured cliff monuments, bearing many inscriptions’.
Here was his chance to be the first to document them. He did indeed visit what is now the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Hegra, a year later, producing one of the first descriptions of its magnificent Nabataean tombs. He didn’t stop there though and travelled onto many other towns in Northern Arabia.
My story starts in the desert outside Tayma, one of my favourite oasis towns in the northwest, where Doughty set out in February 1877. Join me on a journey to the places he tells of. Together we can try to link his story to what we find today.
He describes the area as having sandy highlands of rising ground and rocky hollows. Yes, this is a very flat open land that can feel void of anything, especially in the hot summer months.
From a distance it is easy to perceive it all this way but having stopped for a closer look and exploring on foot after the rain, the desert is a joy to behold. Swaths of flowers flow over the softly undulating landscape, dancing in the breeze. I don’t want to leave this desert meadow, but I’m keen to get to Tayma.
He describes the area as having sandy highlands of rising ground and rocky hollows. Yes, this is a very flat open land that can feel void of anything, especially in the hot summer months.
From a distance it is easy to perceive it all this way but having stopped for a closer look and exploring on foot after the rain, the desert is a joy to behold. Swaths of flowers flow over the softly undulating landscape, dancing in the breeze. I don’t want to leave this desert meadow, but I’m keen to get to Tayma.
The vast open desert and the distance between oases is a reminder of how important these settlements were before the advent of the motorcar. It would have taken days if not weeks to travel between them on camels or walking.
Thousands of years ago, Tayma was one of the most important stops on the northern section of the Incense Road, a trade route between the Southern Arabian kingdoms, Mesopotamia, the Mediterranean and the Levant.
Caravans would have travelled thousands of miles with their valuable cargo of incense, spices, fabrics, precious stones and wool.
The first written record of Tayma comes from the 8th century BCE when Ninurta-kudurri-usur, the Assyrian governor of Suhu and the land of Mari (along the Middle Euphrates) describes in a stone tablet the attack on a caravan from Tayma and Saba.
He claims to have captured 100 men and 200 camels, along with all their goods (including blue-purple wool, iron, pappardilu stones and ‘every kind of merchandise’).
This stele (stone tablet) now resides in the Iraq Museum in Baghdad and is testament to the great lengths people travelled in times gone by. If I close my eyes slightly, I can almost imagine a long caravan of camels slowly moving across this land, eagerly anticipating their arrival in the great oasis of Tayma.
Thousands of years ago, Tayma was one of the most important stops on the northern section of the Incense Road, a trade route between the Southern Arabian kingdoms, Mesopotamia, the Mediterranean and the Levant.
Caravans would have travelled thousands of miles with their valuable cargo of incense, spices, fabrics, precious stones and wool.
The first written record of Tayma comes from the 8th century BCE when Ninurta-kudurri-usur, the Assyrian governor of Suhu and the land of Mari (along the Middle Euphrates) describes in a stone tablet the attack on a caravan from Tayma and Saba.
He claims to have captured 100 men and 200 camels, along with all their goods (including blue-purple wool, iron, pappardilu stones and ‘every kind of merchandise’).
This stele (stone tablet) now resides in the Iraq Museum in Baghdad and is testament to the great lengths people travelled in times gone by. If I close my eyes slightly, I can almost imagine a long caravan of camels slowly moving across this land, eagerly anticipating their arrival in the great oasis of Tayma.
Doughty passes remnants of ancient ruins, an indication that this land has long been settled by people for centuries, and yet today there are many areas of archaeological excavation where new finds give greater insight on a regular basis. As he gets closer, he describes the tall island of palms, enclosed by long clay orchard walls and fortified towers. Entering the old part of town today, that’s exactly how I’d describe it too.
The palms are impressively tall and give great swaths of shade, a welcome relief for any traveller. It’s the peacefulness, the sublime feeling of somewhere of rest, to recharge from a long journey. Already I’m enchanted by this ancient oasis.
The palms are impressively tall and give great swaths of shade, a welcome relief for any traveller. It’s the peacefulness, the sublime feeling of somewhere of rest, to recharge from a long journey. Already I’m enchanted by this ancient oasis.
‘An amorous contentment for our parched eyes’, is how the branches of the plum trees in full blossom are described by Doughty. All the way through his book he uses this style of old English, not the easiest to read to be honest.
But it does make one think a bit more about what he’s trying to say.
Can you image how it must have felt, after many days seeing no more than the okra sand of the desert?
Yet plums aren’t the only thing grown there. It is recorded that pomegranate, fig, great citron, and lemons are grown, along with grape vines that give shade over the wells. Dates are the main crop but are supplemented by wheat and barley (harvested in April), millet and Nejd grain (Duksa).
Doughty is not impressed by the growing of local tobacco, which he describes as indecent!
Salt is collected from the salt beds at the sabkha (dried up paleolake), which the Bedouins tell Doughty is sweeter than AlWejh salt (AlWejh is a town on the coast of the Red Sea).
But it does make one think a bit more about what he’s trying to say.
Can you image how it must have felt, after many days seeing no more than the okra sand of the desert?
Yet plums aren’t the only thing grown there. It is recorded that pomegranate, fig, great citron, and lemons are grown, along with grape vines that give shade over the wells. Dates are the main crop but are supplemented by wheat and barley (harvested in April), millet and Nejd grain (Duksa).
Doughty is not impressed by the growing of local tobacco, which he describes as indecent!
Salt is collected from the salt beds at the sabkha (dried up paleolake), which the Bedouins tell Doughty is sweeter than AlWejh salt (AlWejh is a town on the coast of the Red Sea).
The houses are all in good order; he sees no ruins, “this is a prosperous settlement, above any I have never seen on my travels”. So Doughty is also falling for the delight that is Tayma. I must admit I feel it too. I start chatting to one of the locals (anyone who knows me, knows I talk to everyone) and find out he was born in one of these houses. Hearing him speak of his childhood running along the long passageways transports me back to bygone days. With the biggest of smiles on my face I asked if he’d show me the exact house. “Of course”, he says “I’d be delighted to”. So with a spring in both our steps we head off back in time.
Walking around Suq AlNajm with Ahmed is very special
Walking around Suq AlNajm with Ahmed is very special. His family have lived here for generations, they are part of the original Najd tribe of Shammar people who Doughty writes of. Houses are of simple clay brick construction, with tamarisk beams, that are grown in the oasis just for this purpose.
Palm stalks laid on rafters are stained from daily smoke but still shine in the light of the flames. The houses are light and open, with holes high in the walls to allow smoke to escape.
The upper floors are open terraces of beaten earth surrounded by walls with square topped pyramids, typical Najd style. Ahmed tells me the family would sleep here in the hot summer months, the breeze flowing over them, whilst the high walls provided privacy from those around.
Palm stalks laid on rafters are stained from daily smoke but still shine in the light of the flames. The houses are light and open, with holes high in the walls to allow smoke to escape.
The upper floors are open terraces of beaten earth surrounded by walls with square topped pyramids, typical Najd style. Ahmed tells me the family would sleep here in the hot summer months, the breeze flowing over them, whilst the high walls provided privacy from those around.
In the corner of this rooftop wall is a small window that would have allowed you to see people approaching. Immediately I think of Ahmed as a small boy, not quite tall enough to see through – on his tiptoes stretching every fibre of his body to get a glimpse of what is happening below.
Doughty’s favourite place in the house is the coffee hall, although he does complain that the environment is like ‘vinegar to the teeth and smoke in your eyes’. This is because they only have palm tree trunks which creates a different sort of smoke to wood smoke.
I’m glad I’m not experiencing the smoke myself, but will always stop for coffee! He enjoys his time sitting on palm matting hearing the stories of those who pass by and subtly check out the stranger in town. Ladies of the house wear blue smocked dresses with red embroidered sleeves accessorised with bracelets and beads bought in Hail, which is the nearest large town, known for its markets and traded goods from Mesopotamia.
They are uncovered in their own home and are rather chatty, asking “Wherefore art thou come to Tayma?” A little bit of rare humour creeps into Doughty’s retort when he replies, “It is mere enough if only to see you my sisters”.
The presence of a Nasrany (a Christian) in the land of Arabs was quite an enigma and they think he is a spy. He does nothing to hide this fact and quite frankly isn’t very subtle or cognisant of his environment.
This arrogant ignorance does not create respect from his peers. The later traveller Sir Richard Burton felt contempt at Doughty’s continual complaining of his treatment, noting that if he had respected the religion and customs of his hosts, he would have not have had to go in constant fear of his life.
Even so, there is much chatting and getting to know each other. I smile to myself when I read that his company roars with laughter when they hear there are no camels or dates in England.
I can easily imagine the scene, letting the time pass by drinking coffee as is very normal in this part of the world. I enjoy this enduring custom greatly. In the heat of the midday sun, there’s no better place to be than sitting in the shade, sharing coffee, dates, and stories.
I’m glad I’m not experiencing the smoke myself, but will always stop for coffee! He enjoys his time sitting on palm matting hearing the stories of those who pass by and subtly check out the stranger in town. Ladies of the house wear blue smocked dresses with red embroidered sleeves accessorised with bracelets and beads bought in Hail, which is the nearest large town, known for its markets and traded goods from Mesopotamia.
They are uncovered in their own home and are rather chatty, asking “Wherefore art thou come to Tayma?” A little bit of rare humour creeps into Doughty’s retort when he replies, “It is mere enough if only to see you my sisters”.
The presence of a Nasrany (a Christian) in the land of Arabs was quite an enigma and they think he is a spy. He does nothing to hide this fact and quite frankly isn’t very subtle or cognisant of his environment.
This arrogant ignorance does not create respect from his peers. The later traveller Sir Richard Burton felt contempt at Doughty’s continual complaining of his treatment, noting that if he had respected the religion and customs of his hosts, he would have not have had to go in constant fear of his life.
Even so, there is much chatting and getting to know each other. I smile to myself when I read that his company roars with laughter when they hear there are no camels or dates in England.
I can easily imagine the scene, letting the time pass by drinking coffee as is very normal in this part of the world. I enjoy this enduring custom greatly. In the heat of the midday sun, there’s no better place to be than sitting in the shade, sharing coffee, dates, and stories.
In the past there wasn’t much money in the town, although Doughty comments that few go hungry. Strangers are welcome to share the food but cannot take it away.
Most things are bartered for – trading goods or services is a way of life. What little silver there is comes from the Hajj caravan or Bedouins wishing to buy dates.
Nearly all is used up in the payment of taxes (due after the date harvest) to the Emir in Hail (4,000 SAR per year).
Doughty leaves town unexpectedly early as the opportunity to travel with an Arab caravan suddenly appears. Such is life – Doughty has to make the most of every opportunity as he doesn’t have much money to pay for his travels, so is bound by other people’s travel plans.
In September later the same year, Doughty arrives back in Tayma during the holy month of Ramadan.
He is greeted in the orchards by an ‘Eden for the eyes’, the sight of golden and purple fruit. The blossom he saw in the spring has borne fruit – lemons, and plums.
How satisfying it must have been, taking the first bite out of these jewel-like fruits. Sadly, the town has also been ravaged by locusts and only half the trees have been saved.
Most things are bartered for – trading goods or services is a way of life. What little silver there is comes from the Hajj caravan or Bedouins wishing to buy dates.
Nearly all is used up in the payment of taxes (due after the date harvest) to the Emir in Hail (4,000 SAR per year).
Doughty leaves town unexpectedly early as the opportunity to travel with an Arab caravan suddenly appears. Such is life – Doughty has to make the most of every opportunity as he doesn’t have much money to pay for his travels, so is bound by other people’s travel plans.
In September later the same year, Doughty arrives back in Tayma during the holy month of Ramadan.
He is greeted in the orchards by an ‘Eden for the eyes’, the sight of golden and purple fruit. The blossom he saw in the spring has borne fruit – lemons, and plums.
How satisfying it must have been, taking the first bite out of these jewel-like fruits. Sadly, the town has also been ravaged by locusts and only half the trees have been saved.
The town has also endured another calamity – part of the majestic Bir Haddaj (the largest well on the Arabian Peninsula) has fallen in. Some of the locals think it’s because Doughty has been writing notes about it in his book.
His friends tell him the townsfolk are out to kill him, but luckily the Sheikh’s son comes and accompanies him into town. By associating with him he ensures his safety.
Bir Haddaj is still an impressive structure today. It has many wheels on 4 sides that back then brought up water by means of a pulley drawn by camels.
Today camels are no longer used except on special occasions or during the tourist season, so I’m fascinated to read more about Doughty’s account.
His friends tell him the townsfolk are out to kill him, but luckily the Sheikh’s son comes and accompanies him into town. By associating with him he ensures his safety.
Bir Haddaj is still an impressive structure today. It has many wheels on 4 sides that back then brought up water by means of a pulley drawn by camels.
Today camels are no longer used except on special occasions or during the tourist season, so I’m fascinated to read more about Doughty’s account.
All-female teams of camels start drawing water at 3am. Women of the town bring food (called provender) at sunrise, consisting of corn straw sprinkled with water, bruised by treading the grain, together with melons and any green stuffs they can find. This sweet-smelling fodder is placed in an earthen manger, at the bottom of each well walk. Thus the camels can take a mouthful each time they come down. By 9am, as the sun gets hot, they are loosened so they can sup water (but not too much as they drink every day from the suryân, the running water channels).
Then they are taken to yards to lie down, rest and chew the cud. The weary teamsters (handlers) go home and sleep awhile. Draft ropes are made of palm fibre, rudely twisted, and covered in pieces of cotton to stop them rubbing the camels. By 2pm the camels are back drawing water and work until sunset. They are not owned by people of the town but are hired by the month from the nomads, for a 100 measure of dates per beast, around 5 SAR. With this description in my mind I can imagine the camels walking down, pulling up long ropes with buckets at the end.
Water is emptied in a great swoosh; at the same time the beasts grab a mouthful of food before walking back and repeating it all again. It is a rhythm of sight, sounds and smells that punctuates each passing day.
The well is described as a meeting point and so it remains today. It’s a place where people still congregate, most recently at the new restaurant where there’s a real buzz. If only the walls could talk, what stories would they tell? It is thought the well was built around the time when Nabonidus (the last Babylonian King) came to the area in 552 BCE, so that’s 2,500 years of history to discover.
Even though Doughty finds Ramadan slow to pass, before he knows it, the town is celebrating Eid. Everyone wears their holiday clothes and smells of rose oil. People go from house to house sharing traditional treats, the joy in everyone’s faces beaming out. Sadly they put away their new clothes after only 2 days as the ripe dates are falling and they need harvesting.
Tayma is lovely to visit during dry weather, but Doughty also finds out first-hand what it’s like to be there during a ‘tempest of a storm’. The tall palms rock back and forth in the roaring gusts, and seem like they would be rent by the roots. I feel a real connection to his experience as when I was last in Tayma, I also endured a huge storm.
The wind swirled throughout the afternoon, slowly picking up more and more sand. By nightfall enormous droplets of rain were smashing down on the car and they were accompanied by the most spectacular lightning storm I have ever seen. It delayed our journey but we were ok, happy to tell the tale. When bad weather comes, it does so with such rapid force it can be shocking. Thankfully it’s normally over quickly and the calm days return before you know it.
Ever the explorer, he is on his way again, moving in the safety of numbers with the nomads and then joining the Hajj caravan. He must have mixed emotions leaving friends he has made, but eager to experience new things… a familiar feeling. Tayma was a relatively comfortable place to stay; few went hungry and fever was unknown. Little did he know that other places weren’t quite so lucky….
Then they are taken to yards to lie down, rest and chew the cud. The weary teamsters (handlers) go home and sleep awhile. Draft ropes are made of palm fibre, rudely twisted, and covered in pieces of cotton to stop them rubbing the camels. By 2pm the camels are back drawing water and work until sunset. They are not owned by people of the town but are hired by the month from the nomads, for a 100 measure of dates per beast, around 5 SAR. With this description in my mind I can imagine the camels walking down, pulling up long ropes with buckets at the end.
Water is emptied in a great swoosh; at the same time the beasts grab a mouthful of food before walking back and repeating it all again. It is a rhythm of sight, sounds and smells that punctuates each passing day.
The well is described as a meeting point and so it remains today. It’s a place where people still congregate, most recently at the new restaurant where there’s a real buzz. If only the walls could talk, what stories would they tell? It is thought the well was built around the time when Nabonidus (the last Babylonian King) came to the area in 552 BCE, so that’s 2,500 years of history to discover.
Even though Doughty finds Ramadan slow to pass, before he knows it, the town is celebrating Eid. Everyone wears their holiday clothes and smells of rose oil. People go from house to house sharing traditional treats, the joy in everyone’s faces beaming out. Sadly they put away their new clothes after only 2 days as the ripe dates are falling and they need harvesting.
Tayma is lovely to visit during dry weather, but Doughty also finds out first-hand what it’s like to be there during a ‘tempest of a storm’. The tall palms rock back and forth in the roaring gusts, and seem like they would be rent by the roots. I feel a real connection to his experience as when I was last in Tayma, I also endured a huge storm.
The wind swirled throughout the afternoon, slowly picking up more and more sand. By nightfall enormous droplets of rain were smashing down on the car and they were accompanied by the most spectacular lightning storm I have ever seen. It delayed our journey but we were ok, happy to tell the tale. When bad weather comes, it does so with such rapid force it can be shocking. Thankfully it’s normally over quickly and the calm days return before you know it.
Ever the explorer, he is on his way again, moving in the safety of numbers with the nomads and then joining the Hajj caravan. He must have mixed emotions leaving friends he has made, but eager to experience new things… a familiar feeling. Tayma was a relatively comfortable place to stay; few went hungry and fever was unknown. Little did he know that other places weren’t quite so lucky….
Sheila Russell Frgs | Date:01 Apr 2023
Sheila Russell Frgs
Sheila Russell is a modern explorer who has spent the last 5 years documenting the history, culture, traditions and natural beauty in Saudi Arabia through storytelling and photography. She is a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society in London and has featured in numerous CNN Arabic articles. Follow her on Instagram@SaudiTravelNotes
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