The Valley of the Crescent Moon
Waking early on a cold February morning, I hear the Indiana Jones theme song playing in my head. It starts softly, playing as background music. Slowly, it gets louder until it crescendos, blasting with full force. Unable to hold back a grin, I start humming along.
Within the hour, I’ll be walking into the Valley of the Crescent Moon.
In reality, it’s called the Siq; a long, narrow cleft that allows access into the ancient Nabataean city of Petra in current day Jordan.
The boiler in my hotel has been broken for days, so I quickly crawl out from under the covers and into my first layer of clothing. A shower is out of the question as the malfunctioning boiler has knocked out the water heaters as well as the radiators. Grateful for the foresight of showering last night, I’m glad I don’t have to get wet in what feels like sub-zero temperature. After layering up, I shove bottled water and granola bars into my backpack.
Not typically one for breakfast, I force myself to load up on oatmeal and toast, knowing I’ll need extra energy today. Petra is a huge city, and the only alternative form of transportation is by donkey. Considering the smell, I would be walking.
Finally ready to head out, the owner of the hotel offers me a ride down the hill. It’s only a kilometer or so, but I figure I’ll be walking enough once inside Petra so I take him up on the offer. Arriving at the gate, I scan the entrance prices and am dismayed at the cost. Apparently, once designated a UNESCO Heritage Site, entrance fees to historical monuments skyrocket. Fortunately, I thought to bring my student ID card which I flash for a discount.
Turning and looking at the entrance to the Siq, I ardently wish horses were still allowed. The desire to pull an “Indy” is overwhelming; galloping full tilt down the ancient passageway would be exhilarating. Unfortunately, countless visitors before me have done exactly that, and the wear on the floor of the Siq has been too significant. Now, it’s a pedestrian only zone.
The Siq is an incredible natural formation. It looks like a hatchet fell from the sky and split the plateau it traverses in two. In places, the path narrows to allow only four people to pass abreast. At its widest, there is barely clearance for eight people. It twists and winds through the heart of the plateau, leading me closer to the city at its end.
Though I am excited to get into Petra proper, the Siq is too beautiful to rush through. The walls have eroded over thousands of years of rainfall and have developed a horizontal undulating appearance. Perhaps the most intriguing features of the walls are the troughs that have formed at their base, functioning as water reservoirs to catch the rainfall. No one knows if the Nabataeans chiseled these out of the sandstone, or if this a natural occurrence caused by the pooling of rainwater over the years.
But the most visually amazing aspect of the Siq is the color. The passage is made of sandstone which has a unique rose-colored hue marbled though it. It is absolutely gorgeous and makes walking the long Siq a pleasure rather than a chore. I move slowly but steadily through the fissure, drinking in the natural beauty while working my way towards the city at the far end.
Three quarters of an hour after entering the Siq, the people walking ahead of me start talking animatedly and pointing in front of them. The angle of the path blocks my view, but I know what’s gotten them so excited. Smiling to myself, I turn the final corner. Though the Siq continues on in front of me and the walls partially block the sight, I can see it, the reason I have travelled to this remote part of Jordan. Continuing to the end of the Siq, the walls drop away and I am granted a full view.
I look up at the façade that is the Treasury, the building where Indy and his crew find the Holy Grail. Of course, there is no grail here, nor are there booby traps or knights from the middle ages. The building is simply three rooms, side by side, dug out of the rock face and unadorned. But the exterior is impressive. Carved out from the rock in raised relief, the façade is permanently embedded in the mountainside and has lasted the two thousand years since its creation. Due to its location between the plateau and the mountain it’s carved into, it has been well protected from the elements and remains in near-pristine condition.
It is also an imposing sentinel guarding the entrance to the city proper. Rounding the corner, the narrow passageway opens up into a valley containing the heart of ancient Petra. But before I can start on the Street of Facades, as the main road is known, I have to explore the hills surrounding the Treasury. Seeing people standing on shelves jutting from the cliff, I am determined to find a path up.
Casting about, I finally hit on a hidden track that leads up the cliff face. I scramble up the trail, which appears to be a fairly new foot path as it is not well defined. It would seem that tourists before me were looking for a better view as well, and they found it. At the end of this path, I am halfway up to the top of the plateau and have an incredible view of the Treasury and the tourists below. Best of all, the chatter of other tourists and the touts selling their arts and crafts are muffled.
Across the open space in front of the treasury, I can see another path leading up into the hills. This path goes up and behind the hill the Treasury is carved into, and was obviously meant to be a trail, created in ancient times. It consists of steps carved out of the rock, and are worn with time and the tread of countless feet. Following this trail will bring visitors to tombs thought to be from early Christian times, including the tomb of Haroon (Aaron), Moses’ brother.
I take a few minutes to appreciate the architecture and history, and understand why Petra has been declared one of the seven New Ancient Wonders of the World. And I haven’t even entered the city yet.
Scrambling back down the path I had climbed up, I start into the city. Walking along the Street of Facades, I can easily see why it had earned that name. Looking up into the cliffs surrounding the city, there are tombs in every direction. The main road is lined with facades marking the tombs of the ancient Nabataean kings. According to legend, the kings had their tombs carved into the hills overlooking the city center so as to be ever watchful of their people, even in death. It’s a little eerie. Regardless, each tomb is a testament to superior craftsmanship in its own right, and seeing them lined up one next to another is a bit overwhelming, as I’m sure the architects intended.
The road angles slightly downhill, leading to the theater which was used as an ancient gathering place. This was the heart of the Nabataean civilization. Setting the stage flush with the road, they used the natural incline of the hill behind it to lay out stone bench seating in riser formation. I climb around the risers, taking in the view from different angles. Sitting down for a moment, I am treated to an impromptu show by a group of tourists. They have jumped up on the stage and are attempting to reenact a play, though I don’t think they had agreed on which one. Nevertheless, it is entertaining to watch them ad lib and gives me an impression of what it might have been like to sit in this seat two thousand years ago. Not so very different from theater today.
The city, though nestled amongst the hills and valleys, is centered at this spot. It sprawls out in every direction. To the south of the theater are stone steps that lead up a mountain to the High Place of Sacrifice and, further on, several tombs from the Roman era of occupation. Across the road to the north is another high cliff, which rises above the kings’ tombs. And the Street of the Facades continues further to the northwest, running the length of the main valley. Following the plan I had laid out the day before, I walked west along the main road.
Shortly after leaving the main city bowl, the cliff which houses the tombs of the kings curves away to the north. About half a kilometer further on, it then cuts down to meet the ground. Curious, I walk over to see if there is a path that will take me into the tombs. Instead, I find an unmapped staircase carved into the back of the cliff face, ascending back in the direction I had just come. Taking these stairs up, I eventually reach a plateau that looks out over the entire valley. Looking to the south, I can see people walking around the High Place of Sacrifice, and I realize that I am standing atop the cliff of the king’s tombs. Rather than finding a way into them, I have found a way above them.
From this height, tourists walking along the main road appear small and insignificant. No one else is on this plateau with me, as most tourists have followed the marked signs to the better known sites. But I can see I’m not the only one who has been here. Along the cliff edge someone had made little stone statues by stacking flat rocks into the shape of men, almost like little guardians.
Checking the time, I realize I had better get moving. I still have about ten kilometers to go before the sun sets. I make my way back down the staircase and onto the main road. Here it turns west, and is paralleled by a remarkable colonnaded street, the eastern end marked by the Nymphaeum and the western end terminated by The Arched Gate. Across the street to the north are the remains of a Byzantine church and the Winged Lion Temple.
I walk past The Arched Gate and continue along until I reach another mountain range. Though the main road does work its way west through the mountain, this is essentially the end of the Petra valley. From here I can go south to a small café which has been erected to cater to tourists, back the way I have come, or north along a dirt track. For most tourists who come this way, north is the direction of choice.
About a kilometer down the dirt road, another mountain seems to block the way. However, a well worn path zigzags its way up the cliff. This path is a daunting two hour hike straight up the mountain. Traffic slows me down a little as it is such a popular destination, and people and donkeys fight for room on the road. But topping the final ridge is a rush in and of itself, knowing I won’t have to do that again.
An industrious businessman has opened a small cantina right at the top of the path, and I fall gratefully into a chair and order a soda. After recovering my breath, I walk to the fork in the path where I hook a right and stand in the splendor of the Monastery. This is another rock-carved façade in the mountain, but what makes the two hour climb worthwhile is its size and location. By far the largest of all Petra’s structures, it is a monstrous testament to their architectural skills. Twice in ten minutes I have my breath taken away.
Sufficiently impressed, I turn around to see the other reason for the arduous hike- the view. The Monastery is located on a western-facing mountain cliff which overlooks both Jordan and Israel. Finding a comfortable rock, I sit and wait for the end of this unbelievable day. After spending all day hiking through such an incredible ancient city, I look forward to the sight of the sun setting over the border of two modern-day countries. It doesn’t disappoint. The spectacular view seems to bring the day to a perfect close.
Except that the day isn’t quite over for me. The hike down in the dark is a bit tricky. Even with the light of a full moon, I almost walk right over the edge of the mountain at one stage, and stick to the inside of the track after that. Once off the mountain, retracing my steps along the length of the city is easy in the moonlight. Once inside the Siq, though, it becomes harder to see where I’m going as the walls are so high and narrow that the light of the moon is almost completely blocked. While eerie in the pitch-black, the Siq still retains some of the wonder of the daylight hours.
Breaking free from the narrow passageway, I walk back into modern Jordan full of hotels, taxis and restaurants. It’s a bit jarring to go from quiet sandstone monoliths to loud, raucous city streets. Still wrapped in my thoughts of the ancient city, I decide to walk the last kilometer to my hotel rather than take a taxi. But by the time I arrive, I’m ready to wrap myself in a blanket and put my feet up in the lounge, where Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade plays every night.
