The adventure of a blonde and a very old car #21

Instagram: @rachael_maciver -

“How quaint”, Mrs. J gushed as we slowly cruised down the high street of the coastal town of Sadah. Most of the small restaurants, and even smaller coffee shops, had set up chairs and rickety tables outside for their patrons to meet and exchange news and gossip, and check out every car passing by. Like ours. Several smiled and waved and gestured at empty chairs for us to join them for a cup of tea. A very smiley town indeed.

Like so many other towns along Dhofar’s coast, Sadah had been a port for exporting frankincense many many years ago and some of the old houses previously owned by wealthy sea merchants could still be found along the town’s main street. Standing out from the rest, they were beautiful with their distinctive decorations of sailing vessels on the facades or over the doors. Similar to the houses we had seen in the neighbouring town of Mirbat, it left the visitors in no doubt what this town was all about - the sea.

We continued down to the harbour; an inlet, perfectly protected from the elements by the rocky hills on both sides. It seemed like an odd place to go diving, but nevertheless, we noticed several groups of young men treading water in circles of 5-6, taking turns diving down in the slightly murky water only to come up gasping for air. Most of them had fins and masks, but no snorkel. Was this some kind of manhood test we didn’t know about? We watched them utterly fascinated. After a while some of the youngsters came back to the shore to rest on the rocks like sleek, wet seals, teasing each other and shaking their long curly hair so water drops flew everywhere.

Mrs J worked up a bit of courage and approached the boys. “What are you guys looking for? What’s so interesting in the middle of the harbour?” she asked. They laughed embarrassed and nudged each other, having suddenly forgotten their school English. An older man was called over to translate.

“They are practising holding their breath underwater”, he told us. Aha, so it was a manhood ritual after all. Except it wasn’t, of course. The man went on to explain how this was training and a lead-up to a very old and time-honoured tradition for this part of the coastline - diving for the elusive and rare Abalone.

This prized sea snail had been thriving in the shallow waters along the Dhofar shores, hiding in the abundant kelp forests where it would attach itself to any rocky surface, perfectly protected by its hard shell. To get these delicacies, you would have to hold your breath like a pearl fisher, dive down in the dense kelp and look for them. With a knife, you would have to gently pry them off the rock without damaging the soft flesh underneath the shell. You would have to measure that the size was above the minimum required by law, or else release the abalone again, hoping it would grow big enough for the following fishing season. The longer you could stay underwater without having to come up for air, the greater your chance of securing the rare sea creatures before someone else spotted it. So training your lungs for this was essential.

For centuries the abalone had been renown for its aphrodisiac properties, far outdoing the raw oyster, and would fetch a market price that would make your eyes water. Of course, this had caused serious over-fishing and the Omani government had been forced to regulate the fishing for the abalone population to multiply and grow bigger, and once again inhabit the waters of Dhofar. For several years diving for these sea creatures had been banned. But now the countdown had started. The government had announced the first abalone fishing season in years and it was short - only 10 days. Anyone wishing to fish for these nuggets of gold had to first obtain an official license, before even jumping in the water. The excitement was tangible. Like the 1848 American gold rush where every man was certain that luck was on his side and he would end up wealthy.

“See you in 3 days”, one of the youngsters shouted over his shoulder before swimming back out in the harbour to continue his training. 3 days before the big day.

I looked at Mrs. J and could see that she too was caught up in the gold rush and excitement. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed she looked like someone who very much planned to sink her teeth into a sea snail. Who would have thought..?!