Wolves and Bears

On sunday I set off for a long ride to Ha'il, 400 and a bit kilometers to the Nortwest of Riyadh. At midday I arrived in Buraydah were I took a rest before tackling the last stretch to Ha'il. I pulled up at a petrol station around 11:30, or better said around 'Dhuhr' prayer time. finding the place deserted, as all men are supposed to be praying in the nearest mosque. It is one of the most bizarre and powerful experiences I have ever had, the effect that every call to prayer has on daily life in Saudi. In Qatar, you would also hear the muezzin five times a day, but life would basically just go on. Although you knew nothing would happen -businesslike- between 11:30 and 13:00, the time of the Dhurh prayer and lunch. In the Kingdom, everything would come to a halt, in the smallest settlement or biggest city. Supermarkets and every small shop would close, restaurants stop serving food, petrol stations go empty, trucks stop by the side of the road and you would see the driver praying in the shadow of his truck, barbershops are deserted, tea and sheesha bars stop buzzing... Everything is left behind, lights are still on, doors are locked and all men hurry to the mosque, only to return 20 minutes later or so, and go on with what they stopped doing. If you do not go to the mosque you run the risk of being interrogated by the infamous Mutawa (religious police), and your business being shut down for no compliance to the Shari'a Law. Luckily I could just go on wandering around because my Visa stated that I am a 'Christian'.

I waited for the prayers to be over (I needed fuel) and sat down in the shade, cooling down, looking at the orange monster that had brought me so far already, when I realized that the bloody thing was leaking oil. A closer look did indeed reveal a puddle of oil in the inside of the skit plate (aluminium plate to protect the engine). I removed the skit plate and cleaned the bottom of the engine block, although unable to find out where the oil was coming from. I topped up the oil and convinced myself that everything would be fine. An hour later I couldn't find any oildrops and set off again.

Twenty or so kilometers before Ha'il I passed my tenth checkpost of the day. At earlier checkpoints, the would content themselves to ask me where I came from. where I was going and what the topspeed of my bike was. This checkpoint, however, was different, I soon realized . It had been set up especially to intercept me, as the police dispersed the block as soon as I arrived. After a couple of phonecalls and radio conversations I was made clear that I had to follow the police car. They delivered me to the only hotel in town and made it clear to me that from now on I would have a police escort following me everywhere I would go, for the rest of my stay in the Kingdom. For my own security of course. In 2006 four french expats were killed in the area I was heading to, although none of the police men would give that as a reason, they would go on about the dangers of the wildlife:"There are dangerous animals out there, wolves and bears.". There is no point in starting a discusssion with a Saudi keeper of the law, believe me, I tried.

Al Ula, the small town in the northwest of Saudi, was my destination on Monday. As promised a police car accompagnied me. Every checkpoint there would be a new car waiting for me. Most of the patrols were very friendly although none of them spoke English. However some of them tailed me so closely that I had to force myself not to think what would happen if I fell. Others would urge me to go faster, which is easily said if you are driving a LandCruiser V8 4.5. I tried to explain to them that my bike would not go faster than 90 (km/h), especially with the fierce head-on desert winds, which forced me to sort of cling onto the left side of the bike not to loose my balance. Eventually I made it to Al Ula, checked into the hotel, excited about the Nabacean site I was to visit.