Hiking Petra, One of the New Seven Wonders of the World
Photo of woman in front of Petra courtesy of Unsplash. Other photos by Blake Snow.
“Get Out There” is a column for itchy footed humans written by long-time Paste contributor Blake Snow. Although different now, travel is better than ever. Today we hike to Petra.
As one of the Seven Wonders of the World, I’ve wanted to visit Petra since I was 10–this after Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade put the canyon-cut “Rose City” ruins on the map. But I didn’t know about The Jordan Trail until a few years ago, whose most scenic section finishes at Petra by the “back door” (read: less crowded) entrance.
As a lover of wondrous things, hiking, and avoiding crowds, the 50-mile route seemed like the perfect excuse to visit the Middle East for the first time. Despite raging war in neighboring Israel (or Palestine, as locals still call it), me and two adventurous friends booked passage on the five-day trek.
So did hiking Petra live up to expectations? No. It obliterated them. Here’s why.
Safety First
Right or wrong, Americans probably fear traveling to the war-torn Middle East more than any other region. I get it. But Jordan is “the quiet house in a noisy neighborhood.” It remains unaffected and peaceful and has been for most lifetimes of those reading this.
Sure, it felt a little concerning to see our flight make a “V” around Israel’s southern borders. But I appreciated and understood the extra precaution of doing so. And that was the only official sign that something was off. I never felt unsafe, irresponsible, or in harm’s way during our week-long visit.
Jordanian hospitality is a big reason for this. I immediately experienced it at my gate, in flight, on the ground, along the hike, and all the way back home to America, while interacting with Jordanians. “Welcome” I was told again and again. Not because of the Biblical proportion tension that continues to mar the region. But in spite of it.
Heightened Adventure
After flying through enormous, golden-colored cumulus clouds just before landing in Amman, I giddily texted my friends, “I haven’t felt this close to Indiana Jones since we hiked Machu Picchu!”
But it wasn’t just the movie parallels or bordering conflict that heightened my sense of adventure. So too did imprecise Jordanian plans, detours, and communications. Things always worked out. But the hour by hour details weren’t as tightly explained or managed as I’ve experienced elsewhere. And that’s not a bad thing.
Other common occurrences constantly reminded me that I was in a very foreign and unfamiliar place. Daily calls for prayer and religious singing over loudspeakers in large cities and tiny villages alike. Roosters depriving me of sleep for nearly two hours before sunrise and Patagonia-like winds thrashing our tents. Dust covered bodies and gear like something you would expect from an all-khaki, desolate desert that’s been devoid of water for what looks like millions of years.
