Things escalated quickly. In a matter of minutes, I went from first hearing about aqua hiking to becoming obsessed with the discipline. The epiphany came during a midsummer lunch with friends in Sardinia: my host handed me a guide to the local “aqua hiking” (as the Italians call it) with itineraries ranging from a morning stroll to a multi-day adventure into the island’s mountainous interior. The combination of hiking, swimming, and the occasional walk under a fallen tree seemed like the ultimate form of recreation. “How come I’ve never done this before?” I wondered. The athletic, broad-shouldered Venetian aristocrat sitting to my right assured me that Oman was “the best” place for it.
While Italy is shaped like a knee-high stiletto boot, Oman, located in the southeastern corner The Sultanate of Oman, located on the Arabian Peninsula, is more like a hiking boot, with its heel jutting into the mouth of the Persian Gulf. Like many of its neighbors, the sultanate is implementing an ambitious reform program for a post-oil economy and, thanks to a diverse natural environment that ranges from a privileged coastline to vast deserts and rugged mountains, it is banking heavily on active tourism.
I planned my trip with my regular adventure companion, Flavio Valabrega. Our destinations would be the cliffs, waterfalls, flat riverbeds and natural pools of the Omani wadis. Wadi refers to a river valley in Arabic and, as I discovered, is the origin of the root word guardwhich is used in the toponyms of many rivers – Guadalquivir, Guadalete, Guadiana – where I live in Andalusia. It is the legacy of the Arab occupation of the Iberian Peninsula.
The Oman Air overnight flight departed Heathrow at 8pm and dropped us in Muscat just after sunrise. We breezed through immigration and customs in the sleek new terminal; 20 minutes after landing, we were greeted with a firm handshake by Haitham, a sporty young Omani guide (who, he later told us, has 11 siblings from the same parents and six more from his father’s second wife). We jumped into his Toyota 4×4 and, to the rhythm of old Egyptian classics, drove through the wide streets of a ghostly city whose inhabitants, after morning prayers, had retreated indoors to observe the fasting rituals of Ramadan.
Two hours later, Haitham parked his car under the pillars of a road bridge that loomed over us from afar and spanned a river. We ate some dates, changed, mounted our GoPros on floating handles, and jumped into an old fishing boat that took us to Wadi Shab.
Perhaps it was the humidity, but Oman’s palms looked different: their emerald-green foliage painted the scorched canyon walls. A friendly white donkey tethered to a pole and two farmers balancing their crops in baskets on their heads made us feel like we were on the set of an epic Technicolor Easter movie. Oman’s hinterland is remote but surprisingly accessible; a view along the river bank revealed a few dozen tourists, mostly European, already laying out their towels. Soon enough, after passing a few natural pools—some deeper than others, all crystal clear—we ventured deep into the wadi, leaving behind the smell of sunscreen. Shortly after, we reached a narrow passage between two massive boulders at the end of a stream. The space above the waterline was barely wide enough for our heads to pass through. It narrowed further as we went, until our ears touched the fluorescent green moss on either side. Underwater, things weren’t much different: the rocks diverged from each other at a tortuous angle, forcing us to swim in contortions against the rising current. It was a tight fit—not ideal for the claustrophobic—but the reward at the end of the tunnel was a powerful waterfall, hidden in a dark, damp bend in the canyon, that gave us a taste of the fun to come. There’s something radically liberating about quickly combining different ways of moving forward: hiking, climbing, divingswimming. It was easy to imagine myself as some kind of all-terrain amphibian, like my childhood dreams of becoming a fishman.
Day two proved to be a complete test for Haitham’s all-wheel-drive Toyota. It began with a 40-minute, incredibly steep climb from our hotel at the base of Wadi Al Arbeieen, past herds of sleek, long-haired goats and a few scattered farms, to Mibam, a small town carved into the side of the mountain. Here, aflaj, Omani’s traditional irrigation system, has transformed the normally arid terrain into a terraced oasis. Our hike to Wadi Mibam was short but action-packed: rappelling down a small waterfall, jumping off a high cliff, and even a few metres of via ferrata as we completed the thrilling 2km loop back to our car. Mibam is the best choice for someone who wants a quick, full-on immersion in water hiking. Our day ended with a final test for our vehicle – and Haitham’s off-road skills – as we sped over the dunes, chasing the sunset before returning to camp for an outdoor shower and a delicious camel meat stew.
It was special, but our intrepid guide had saved the best for last. After a hearty breakfast of qurus (Omani pancakes filled with cheese and black mountain honey) and sweet Bedouin black tea, we drove out of the desert and through the hills toward Wadi Hawir. Apart from a young French family setting off in an impressive camper van as we parked, there was no other human being in sight. There were just three of us, walking and swimming our way to our largest wadi yet.
If Wadi Mibam is a small, compact, and beautiful canyon, Wadi Hawir is something else entirely. Monumental rock formations tower high, blue skies stretch between the canyon’s eastern and western rims; its vast gorge was still in shadow when we began our hike through the barely bearable waters of the pools. While not overly technical, Wadi Hawir requires a higher level of fitness and, more importantly, stronger nerves to handle some adrenaline rushes. We had to hurl ourselves down a steep rock slide—headfirst, in Flavio’s case—into tumultuous whitewater, and rappel down a 16-metre waterfall with water streaming down our faces. That descent was one of those rare moments of hyper-awareness where I realized that in order to move and, well, breathe, the first thing I had to do was relax. When I finally resurfaced, unscathed, I burst out laughing—a purely physical expression—to join Flavio in the warmer, milky turquoise waters of a sun-drenched cove.
For better or worse, it probably won’t be long before a Decathlon store near you has a section dedicated to water trekking gear. For now, water trekkers have to get creative when it comes to putting together the right gear. Our Vibram FiveFingers water shoes were a great option; we both wore the V-Aqua, which are light enough to swim in and dry fairly quickly—though a pair with better grip would have been better for the slippery rocks. Flavio was happy with his old nylon Prada swim shorts; I wore my mid-length open-water swimsuit (snug-fitting clothing prevents you from getting stuck on a rock in one of the extremely narrow passages). Next up, a Patagonia technical tee to conform to local customs (there’s no topless swimming in public in Oman); Oakley sunglasses and Orca goggles; and our GoPros – although I was pleasantly surprised by the durability of my iPhone 15 Pro, which ended up getting wet for most of the trip. Haitham carried our rappelling gear, a thermos with Omani coffee and snacks. Anything we were particularly missing? Pockets in our swimsuits and a good pair of binoculars.
In a region that is rapidly expanding its tourism offering, Oman has retained something uncontested. The fact that the chasm leading to one of the world’s largest caves is not closed – there is not even a warning sign anywhere – is invigorating. And above all, it has retained an authentic atmosphere.
With its strong economy, the Sultanate can now take inspiration from the region to manage tourism appropriately and protect its natural wonders. I look forward to returning soon to see what they are doing.
Igor Ramírez García-Peralta traveled as a guest of Visit Oman (visitoman.om) with an itinerary from Change Your Routine Adventures (cyr-aventures.com), which offers trips from £2,800 for two people. Return flights from London to Muscat start at £600 (omanair.com)
