On the Kings Highway to Karak

Thursday 18th December
The hot water at Lulus was conspicuous by its absence in the morning so we birdbathed in cold showers. As we sat in solitary splendour in "our" kitchen, we pondered the vagaries of backpacking life, where we had no hot water but the kitchen benchtops were made from real marble.

Our transport, an aged diesel minivan and driver Awad turned up at 9.40am and we set off on the Kings Highway for Karak and Petra. Awad brought along some homemade cookies which he kindly shared with us and, in turn, I offered him some fruit we had bought in Madaba. On the outskirts of Madaba, we passed many olive groves in their infancy, the grey-green leaves offering a little colour in the landscape. At this time of year, the sky is pitiless grey, as is the soil and the colour seems to have leached out of everything. It's hard to get used to, after the bright blue of the Australian sky.

On the way, Awad pointed out Mukawir (Machaerus) where Salome danced for Herod and demanded the head of John the Baptist as a reward. We would like to have made a side trip to see this but were unsure of the extra time and distance involved. We were becoming somewhat nervous of the state of repair of our chariot. Awad, like all Jordanians, was a pleasant man but certainly not the tour operator he had claimed. It transpired that he and his vehicle had never actually been to Petra along the Kings Highway. He had travelled to Petra along the Desert Highway but this alternative route involved steep inclines and descents and high altitudes. I don't think he took this into account when he said his van could do the trip. The weather was bleak and cold and there was no heater in the van. No seals on the doors either and the wind whistled through the gaps.

	We were going quite well until we reached Wadi Mujib, the "Grand Canyon of Jordan". This was the place where the last tour operator had met his fate. One kilometre deep and over 4 km from one edge to the other, we were hoping our brakes were in better condition than the engine. We spiralled slowly down the gorge, at the bottom of which the Wadi Mujib Dam is currently being constructed.
	Then we wound our way slowly (very slowly) up the other side. The van laboured mightily and finally reached the top but I think lasting damage had been done. From then on, we rarely made it out of second gear.

We continued ever more slowly to Karak Castle, a Crusader built castle some 900m above sea level. This is just one of a long line of Crusader castles stretching from Turkey to Aqaba. It is the one made infamous by Reynald of Chatillon, the Elephant of Christ, who used to toss captives off the walls to meet their end on the rocks below.

	Looking through this gap, (see left) I could see how terrified they must have been. There was nothing to stop you from walking straight through the gap and ending up hundreds of feet below.
	Perched high above the village, we made rather a rushed trip through the Castle because gale force winds were forcing us off our feet.

Awad was becoming more and more agitated. We needed to leave - and leave now, he insisted. The snow was coming fast! Indeed, the air was icy and so we continued on, trying to beat the snow. Several false starts found us up and down the hills around Karak before we finally found ourselves on the correct road to Petra.

Visibility was becoming worse and the next river gorge, Wadi Hasa, was a problem. The snow was almost upon us and Awad drove like a maniac down the hill. I was sure the brakes were going to fail at any second and we would plunge over the cliff edge to our deaths. But fate was on our side and we reached the valley without mishap. It took hours to climb the other side: believe me when I tell you we were overtaken by a tractor! This minivan was definitely on its last legs. Foul plumes of diesel followed us up the mountain as the van coughed and spluttered its way around the hairpin bends towards the summit.

The last of the steep climbs was over. Thinking very little else could happen, we relaxed - until the snow hit us at Tefila and we discovered we also had no windscreen wipers. At this stage, Awad asked us if we really wanted to see Shobak, the second Crusader Castle.

"No" screamed Guy "My b..... legs are freezing! Let's get to Petra before this heap of ...... disintegrates completely!"

Afronted, Awad continued in sulky silence and we finally reached Wadi Musa (the village which surrounds Petra) at 5.30pm, some eight hours after leaving Madaba. Not bad for a three hour drive!

We booked into the Mussa Springs Hotel at the top of the hill - JD10 with bathroom. Concerned that Awad might try to drive home that night, we paid for his accommodation for the night and treated him to a meal. For this, I think he forgave Guy for being mean about his car.

It was almost dark but we drove down to the entrance to Petra and had a short walk before returning to the hotel for supper.

We met Anthony and Bernadette from Melbourne and had a pleasant chat to them. A little older than ourselves, they had just spent 5 weeks backpacking through Turkey, Bulgaria, Syria and Jordan. They were leaving for Amman the following day to return to Australia.