Climbing Idwal Balata Sakhria in Musandam
Words + Photos By: Mike Nott
It’s said that patience is a virtue. But sometimes, it’s not by choice and it can be the source of much angst. In 2007, while travelling in the Musandam, Oman with my family, I caught sight of an unfeasibly large rock slab. Although it lay beyond a couple of distant ridgelines and seemed unlikely to be easily accessed, we wanted to see if we could get close to it. We drove to the head of the last wadi nearest to it – the Wadi Ba’neh – where we were met by a head wall that, at the time, appeared to be too horribly loose and precipitous to scale. So, our plan to see the slab up close was thwarted. Having subsequently found it on Google Earth, the “easiest” way to reach it appeared to be a 22km long walk-in from the coastal village of Limah, which is only accessible by boat. So the plan to ever get there was put on to the back burner of aspirations.
In July 2011, I ended up in the same place again, but this time the prospects of getting to the slab had improved considerably. A new wooden pylon line had been constructed over the ridgeline that had previously barred the way. There was now a rough construction track beneath the pylons up and over the ridge. Being so horribly hot in July, I went back in December and “proved” the route. This was also tied into my plans for the Musandam Adventure Race, which subsequently took place in February last year). From the ridgeline, the slab could be seen in all its glory and it was immense. So, after having waited patiently for five years, the plan to climb this slab was now a “go’er”.
Pete Aldwinckle, a local climbing guru and legend, partner in Global Climbing LLC and, more importantly, my friend, was persuaded to come and climb the slab. Two weeks before the agreed date, I walked the route over the ridgeline and up to the base of the slabs and dumped three litres of water, which I hoped would save us a bit of weight on the actual walk-in to the climb itself. We left Dubai at 6:30 p.m. on a Thursday evening and headed up the E611 and on to Ras Al Khaimah, Sham and the border crossing to Al Dhara, through which we passed very swiftly. We went along the coast road, over the ridge down to Khasab and then off-road for 65km. The off-road section is one of the most picturesque drives in the region and it was Pete’s first time to do it, though it’s not quite the same in darkness! We eventually reached the head wall at the end of Wadi Ba’neh, arriving there at about midnight, put up the roof tent, got out the chairs and a couple of tinnies and marvelled at the stars and the meteor shower that was on show.
Up at around 6:00 a.m., we ate breakfast and packed a lead rack, rope, harnesses, helmets, rock shoes, water and vegetable spring rolls and samosas. We headed up the interminable slope to the ridgeline, rested briefly at the top and enjoyed the “wow factor” view. We headed down the other side on the – at times – exposed and vertiginous construction path. Then we had the prospect of walking up the next wadi and scree slope to the base of the slab and reached it by about 9:30 a.m. The slab lay in front of us and the technical ease of the ascent became immediately obvious, though not disappointingly so. We “geared up,” tied into the rope and started off up the slab, picking the line as we chose and enjoyed being in the cool of the morning shade. The route comprised some smooth, slippery faces, thin cracks, rough slabs and a couple of ledges, but all at an angle that really didn’t present too much danger. I placed a runner on pitch one, but after that we had 60m run-outs with no protection – apart from the belay stances – for the next five pitches. Pete placed a runner on about pitch seven and even took his fleece off. By pitch nine, we had reached the summit and the ridgeline edge at about 12:30 p.m.
Our guesstimate was that after nine pitches, we’d climbed 450m (1,440ft) or so. The sight of the slab from the top was even more expansive than from the bottom and the views over towards Limah were superb. The drop-off on the other side of the ridgeline from the slab was huge and impressive, and we enjoyed it as we ate lunch. Then followed – well, for me – the least fun part: the descent off the slab. We traversed the decidedly sharp ridgeline along the top to the edge of a scree slope. Pete confidently strode out along this knife-edge, while I, at times, resorted to back climbing until I was able to “let go” and walk off. Neither of us is in the spring of youth, and the descent from the slab bottom was a painful experience as our knees cried out.
We then faced the depressing prospect of the ascent up the construction path and the even worse descent back down to the car, but we plodded on, reaching the car at about 4:30 p.m., that’s nine hours after we had set out. After a quick change of clothes, we packed the car, drank and ate again and headed off back towards Khasab, passing through the Jebel Al Sayh cutting at a chilly 10°C, and arriving at the border at Al Dhara. Again, we swiftly passed through immigration, only stopping for hot chocolates at Pete’s preferred garage in Ras Al Khaimah. We arrived home by 10:30 p.m. and we were pretty shattered.
We agreed that the chances of either of us going back to climb the slab again are almost nil, but it had been a great day out and in a place that we can confidently say had not been visited before by climbers. If you’re keen to have a go, the base of the slab is at N25° 54.988 E56° 19.359.
