Four Days in Musandam’s Fjords by Kayak

The sea had already begun to turn against him by the time Hamdoon Al Hashmi reached the fjords of Musandam. Winter was fading, but the weather had not settled. Waves rolled heavily across the water, winds shifted unpredictably against the limestone cliffs, and the kayaking route he had planned through the peninsula’s isolated inlets suddenly became too dangerous to pursue alone.
For many travellers, it would have been enough reason to turn back. But standing at Khor Najd harbour, watching the sea roughen beneath mountains rising dramatically from the water, al Hashmi felt something else entirely: curiosity.
“How come we haven’t given the opportunity to explore this part of Oman?” he later reflected.

It is a question that has stayed with the Omani adventurer for years. As the founder of Navigator Community, al Hashmi has become known for documenting Oman beyond postcard imagery. His journeys are not simply about adventure, but about understanding landscapes through architecture, forgotten settlements and human encounters. He explores how villages adapt to mountains, how communities survive isolation, and how traditional structures continue to shape identity long after many have been abandoned.
Musandam, however, remained unfinished business.
Often reduced to the title of the “Norway of Arabia,” the peninsula is far more layered than its tourism shorthand suggests. Separated from mainland Oman by the UAE, Musandam developed almost as a world of its own. Villages cling to mountain edges accessible only by boat, ancient stone homes blend into the cliffs, and daily life still follows the rhythm of the sea.

After postponing the expedition for years, al Hashmi finally decided winter’s final weeks offered an opportunity. Packing supplies for several days alongside his kayak, he drove north, stopping briefly in Madha before continuing to Khasab.
“The road towards Khasab was breathtaking,” he recalled. “High cliff mountains and how the road was tailored along the Arabian Gulf.”
Yet Musandam itself quickly reshaped the expedition. Rough seas forced him to abandon his original route and focus instead on exploring Khor Najd by kayak. While preparing for four days at sea, he witnessed a scene that revealed another side of the peninsula.
“While I was packing my kayak, a Land Cruiser stopped by the harbour and dropped young students who walked towards the boat,” he said. “Thirty minutes later another pickup brought more students. As they finished school, it was time to hop into a car and boat to reach their village.”
The moment stayed with him because it reflected daily life in Musandam, where boats remain a necessity rather than a tourist attraction.
Over the following days, al Hashmi paddled through fjords where mountains stood like walls around isolated settlements. In al Hablayeen, he encountered white-sand beaches beneath towering rock formations, wooden dhows resting beside fibre boats, and a mosque at the centre of village life.

“The mountains stood tall like guards,” he said.
But it was the abandoned villages that fascinated him most.
Near Maqaqah Island, he hiked towards an old signal tower where crumbling stone houses remained scattered across the mountainside. The trail eventually opened to Maqlab village overlooking Khor Sham fjord.
“As I walked past the houses, in my mind I said one day this place would be a heritage house.”
Across Oman, restored villages such as Misfat a.l Abriyeen and Al Suwgra have shown how heritage tourism can revive abandoned settlements. Yet Musandam still contains countless forgotten villages slowly disappearing into the landscape.
His final campsite on Maqaqah Island revealed the contrast clearly. Roofless homes stood silently against the mountains while schools of sergeant major fish moved through the clear waters below.
Before leaving Musandam, one destination continued to occupy his thoughts: Kumzar, the isolated village known for the Kumzari language, a rare linguistic blend shaped by centuries of maritime trade across the Strait of Hormuz.
“My journey had to end,” he said, “but no wonder that I’m coming back next winter.”
In Musandam, perhaps that is inevitable. The peninsula never fully reveals itself in a single journey. The mountains, the sea and the villages between them continue to hold back just enough to pull travellers into returning once more.