Surfing with the Grateful Dead

Strange--is it not?--that of the myriads who

Before us passed the door of Darkness through,

Not one returns to tell us of the road

Which to discover we must travel too.

Omar Khayyam

For an avid surfer life in Dubai can be a bit frustrating. While one can surf from time to time in Dubai, the conditions are generally less than ideal. The largest swells are usually created by strong onshore winds that create messy conditions and the doldrums can take hold for quite extended periods. However, just 600km to the south the Indian Ocean serves up beautiful long rollers along the Omani coast between Salalah and Ras Al Had. Equipped with a 4x4, GPS, extra tires, and ample supplies of water and food the more adventurous make regular treks to the barren Omani coast where the line-up is always empty save for the occasional tiger shark

On the last trip in July, I intended to link up with my son and several other younger surfers who had left Dubai several days before to explore some potential new breaks. After a number of hours searching the coast I finally located their camp high on a steep point that jutted out sharply into the ocean. The long clean powerful rights were peeling down the line from the point and as I pulled up I watched a lone surfer take off on a wave and then carve his way along the coast for a good distance before peeling off the lip.

I greeted the crew - Khalid (Lebanese-Australian), Santiago (Columbian), Mubarak (German - Emirati), James (Zimbabwean) and my son Clint. They had been out in the surf all morning and were resting under a tarp they had set up. After the usual greetings I took a stroll around the camp and noticed it was located in an unusual and excessively rocky area surrounded by soft white sand for hundreds of yards and there was something strange about the rocks. They seemed to be arranged, to a certain degree, symmetrically - with the odd flat stone sticking up almost vertically every 6-8 feet. Then I realized the boys "surf camp" had been pitched smack in the middle of an old Muslim cemetery!With no village visible for miles, I pondered the origin and the age of this necropolis and wondered at the lives spent, now marked only by simple stones.

The Omani coast is treacherous. Perhaps these were the graves of some crew shipwrecked in a barren land. Or perhaps, they were simply fishermen whose village of Barasti reed huts has long been swept away by the wind and sand. The combination of death and isolation impressed me with the fleeting nature of life. As Omar said "One thing is certain and the rest is lies: The Flower that once has blown for ever dies"As Muslims believe in the literal resurrection of the dead on judgment day, cemeteries are fairly holy places and the presence of infidels amongst the dearly departed is considered a rather serious violation of religious protocol - essentially amounting to desecration. What I found most interesting was the two Muslims in the crew (Khalid & Mubarak) had not noticed they were sleeping in the middle of a graveyard. As the sun was rapidly setting the crew broke camp and moved to a respectful distance down the beach. Those souls long dead we left behind but that same evening we toasted them with wine and asked their forgiveness for our trespass.